Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit
by Crystalline Temptress
Summary: "That which nurtures me, destroys me." Black is accused of being a Death Eater. Amidst the brewing trouble, Snape is tested to see where his loyalties lie. Hermione realizes how ties can bind, while Harry and Ron put fate into her hands. Severus/Hermione.
1. Prologue

Title: "Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit - Prologue"

Author: Crystalline Temptress or C.T.

Feedback: Yes, and greatly appreciated.

Archive: Sure, but ask me first.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Severus/Hermione

Summary: This is my first Harry Potter series fic, in which Severus Snape is tested to see where his loyalties lie. A little bit on the adult side, but not too bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me. 

Notes: I just found this quote particularly striking . . . "That which nourishes me, destroys me." And don't worry, the dream sequence actually _has_ a major part in the story, it's not just something I wanted to put there on behalf of pairing them up. :)

A million thanks to my beta readers, Misao and Sicaria. (Sicaria, what do I call you? :) ) Without them, I don't think I'd have the courage to put this fic out. :) Much thanks to my friends as well, who deal with my obsessions _so_ patiently. 

-----

_"Oh . . ."_

_The soft cry warmed him inside out, a ripple of liquid fire in his veins as the sound billowed through his consciousness. _

She was all heat and porcelain skin; the smooth flesh beneath his hands yielding to him, the little whimpers elicited as his lips touched the hollow of her collarbone . . . beautiful.

Where is virtue? He wondered fleetingly, the thought fading to the recesses of consciousness as her knee slid tantalizingly against his thigh. 

Sinfully intoxicating, deliciously wicked, her lips slid against his jaw, finally capturing his own in a searing kiss. Her hands threaded his silken hair, the strands of her own gliding like satin upon his senses. The coolness of the tendrils was an innocently insubstantial caress that served to further fire his desire, eliciting the murmurs that rumbled in his throat—oh, the bliss. . . .

The completion . . . It was a mantra that repeated itself over and again, velvet tones sensual upon the languorous spell the seduction had cast. Soon, as her body shifted beneath his, the litany changed into something less articulate—I want . . . Oh, Gods . . .

And suddenly, like snapping thread, the dream faded sharply into the night as Severus Snape bolted upright from bed.

The Potions master cursed quietly under his breath as he rubbed his aching temples wearily. The dream's aftereffects had faded almost completely, leaving naught but a faint pressure upon the pit of his stomach.

What in Merlin's name was that? He asked himself distractedly as he glanced at the thick, Tudor-style curtains that hung upon the 17th century windows of Hogwarts castle. The forest green hue of the material was a comfort to his bleary vision. It was familiar; nothing that would startle him, nothing like those visions he had had that past evening. 

Severus felt worse than he normally did on winter mornings, aside from that usual self-disgust that never seemed to fade. The sensation of self-loathing was now accompanied by further repulsion. He had not had erotic dreams since . . . well, he did not even recall and did not want to recall the last time he had dreams similar to the one he had that night. 

Beside the fact that his having a dream in that sense, another thing that startled him was that he didn't quite remember who was with him. The knowledge revolted him. The woman could have been anyone. . . .But it would have been better to know, rather than to guess. At least then, he would have been able to scoff at the idea. 


	2. Chapter 1

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 1"

By the Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me. 

A/N: I got the inspiration for this from a line that Professor Snape had said to Quirell in the movie. " . . . When you have decided where your loyalties lie," or something similar to that.

There's no Severus/Hermione just yet . . . It'll probably come in the next few chapters or so. If ever there is, it's very mild. 

Gratitude once more to my beta readers. :)

-----

 "Today is your examination day. There is to be no talking, no sidelong glances, or anything pertaining to cheating," Professor Snape declared, sweeping past them all, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

"Half of this exam will be written, the other half laboratory work. I have assured that copying is impossible, because I made five different versions of this test; but regardless of that, I will reprimand all who attempt to break the rules. I will pass the papers, and at the bottom of the ninth page you will see the potion you need to brew." He ignored the incredulous whispers of the class. "I certainly hope you all came prepared, because I will not be providing the ingredients." The last statement received groans. He gave the Gryffindors his patented glare, while the Slytherins looked smug, thinking that their head of the house must have made their exams easier. Snape took a thick pile of sheets and passed it to each student, allowing himself a thin-lipped smile at their horrified looks. 

You will all need this, he thought, shaking his head internally.

As he was passing by a table, his robe caught on a student's shoe, causing him to skid forward a meter or so. Everyone tittered, but hushed immediately as he straightened himself and looked at each pupil sharply. 

"Snape's a bit more vindictive today, isn't he?" fifth year Ron Weasley muttered audibly. Snape could practically feel the boy eyeing him with distaste from behind that infamous red hair. 

"And a bit clumsy," Harry Potter added quietly, his emerald green eyes no doubt trained on the teacher as he strode by.

"Stop it," Hermione Granger hissed. "You'll get us in trouble."

"Potter, Weasley and Granger," Snape barked as if on cue, gliding over to them like a malevolent bat. "Talking while the examination is going on." 

"But sir, you haven't given us our papers yet," Ron reasoned, holding up his empty palms.

"That is irrelevant. Have you stopped to consider that perhaps your incessant chatter distracts those who have already received their booklets? Ten points from Gryffindor apiece." He walked away from them once more, earning their glares and ire. 

Let them bring forth their venom. Snape narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling the beginnings of a headache. He sat down at the desk located at the front of the room, surveying the scene before him, like he usually did every semester. It was a routine he was used to. But due to the deathly quiet atmosphere, added to the headache that made him long to sleep, it was not long before he found himself drifting off. 

"Severus," Professor Dumbledore said, gesturing to the chair in front of his table. Snape took a seat and waited impatiently as Dumbledore sat across him. 

"What news have you of Voldemort's whereabouts?" the headmaster asked, those blue eyes peering at him from behind those half-moon spectacles. 

"None, headmaster." Snape shook his head. "Each time I gather with the Death Eaters, he gives needless information." He exhaled tersely. "I think he suspects me." 

"Let us hope that he doesn't," Dumbledore said gravely. "That's unusual, though. If he does suspect you, then why is he not confronting you?" The old wizard looked strained, Snape realized in alarm. "Perhaps he is biding his time . . . Merlin help us. Watch your back more carefully now, Severus. These are dangerous times." 

The grim statement had chilled him like nothing else could have. 

Snapping out of his reverie, Snape rubbed his temples irritably, gazing blearily at the rows of teenagers before him. 

What I would give to be a student again, he thought bitterly. Nothing to worry about except my exams.

But no, he corrected himself; these students worry about their futures and the futures of their families as well.

And it wasn't exactly true that he had nothing to worry about except his studies. He cringed. He spent his later days of schooling with the notorious crowd in Slytherin. For years and years, he had asked himself why. 

Perhaps it was the acceptance. He was pureblood, undeniably an excellent, rich wizard with a sharp mind and a sharper tongue. And yet he was lonely, only because he veered away from his batch. 

He also recalled that Lucius Malfoy had always received the attention. It was probably due to the fact that Lucius was more obvious about his wealth than anyone was, flaunting everything he could unabashedly. 

So when Lucius had befriended him in third year, Snape had risen to the occasion magnificently, showing the Slytherin house and all others that he was brilliant with magic, particularly with hexes and curses. But unbeknownst to them, his best skill lay with potions. 

Bottle fame, brew glory and stopper death. His mother had taught him that saying. He knew at a young age that potions were versatile; they could do things that wands could not. Yet in the same count they were constraining; potions needed ingredients, time and exact measurement, while spells only needed a wand.

The hissing of a cauldron brought his attention back from its wander. Neville Longbottom was standing on his stool, whimpering as his iron pot melted into an indefinable mass of liquid on the table. 

"Longbottom, this could be the hundredth time you've dissolved a caldron." Snape suppressed his smile as he recognized the potion the boy had made. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and a minus from your grade."

If only that boy knew how to measure, Snape sneered. A complex potion, although an accident. Pity.

Just then, an enchanted hourglass chimed from the shelves as its sands ran out. 

"Time is up," he declared, rising from his stool. "Pass your papers forward at the count of three." 

There was a commotion as all struggled to hand in their tests. Finally gathering each one, Snape dismissed them, shuffling the papers as they rushed outside.

"Neville!" Hermione's voice rang out distinctly through the crowd. "Did you know that you made an Arma Liquefacio?"

"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron retorted. 

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "It was a spell used in the medieval times to melt an opponent's armor, if ever he wore any. It only got rid of the armor, though, and did no damage to the skin. Very handy for blacksmiths. But then, people would want a potion that doesn't just get rid of the mail but also scalds the enemy, right? So they invented another concoction that was called Fatalis Arma Liquefacio. It burned the flesh as well," she said knowledgably. 

Snape glanced at Hermione. Her knowledge never ceased to amaze the teachers. 

Someday, she might be our collegue, he acknowledged, his mouth flattening into a thin line. If her friends won't get in her way.

He watched as she examined the remains of Neville's cauldron, her hazel eyes alight in interest as she assessed the remains. She tucked a sheet of golden brown hair behind her ear and squinted at the liquid substance. 

Her curiosity remains either a blessing or a curse, he cogitated, pretending to sort test papers in order to observe her more. After a few minutes of the feigned preoccupation, he decided to send her away, due to the fact that he still had to grade the potions.

"Miss Granger," he said, striding over to her. She looked up at him in alarm, obviously having forgotten where she was. Snape was known for his abrasiveness towards the Gryffindors; he knew that he had to keep the façade, although he didn't mind her presence that much. Harry and Ron looked at her uneasily, and then managed to contain their distaste as Snape looked at them too. 

"As much as your interest in the effects of the Arma Liquefacio is admirable, I have some work to do in the dungeons," he remarked in the silky voice he used to praise the Slytherins and reprimand the Gryffindors. "Please leave the room immediately and let me do my work in peace," he commanded, pointing a slender finger at the door. 

Harry and Ron looked at each other incredulously, then hurried out to avoid any point-taking Snape was about to do. But just as the three turned to leave, Snape added, "Five points from Gryffindor each for loitering." 

As soon as the three had left, he went to work, inspecting the potions of all the students. Soon after, he placed all their marks on parchment and tucked it in with their papers. The headache was beginning to bother him again, pounding upon his temples. Oddly, it didn't feel like a normal headache. . . .It felt rather like a rake digging through his brain. 

He scoffed at how ridiculous his musings sounded. "A normal headache indeed," he sneered aloud. "Since when were headaches normal or abnormal?" He shook his head in annoyance, muttering under his breath, then headed out to the lab to make himself a Cure-All potion.

"I can't wait for the examination results," Hermione declared as she sank into a particularly overstuffed armchair. The Gryffindor common room looked wonderfully cozy, the blazing hearth filling the room with a warm, Christmassy glow. 

Harry and Ron groaned. "We just finished the tests," Harry said, looking befuddled. "How could you want to see the grades now?"

She looked at him keenly. "Because then I would see how well I fared," she replied. "Because I know I studied, unlike some people."

Ron shook his head. "Hit where it hurts, why don't you?" he muttered, earning a snort from Harry. 

"Anyway, what do you think was wrong with Professor Snape today?" Harry piped up thoughtfully.

"What, other than he was clumsier than usual and nearly slept through the entire period?" Ron shrugged. "He must've been thinking of new ways of making our exams harder." 

"I don't think so. . . ." Hermione said carefully. "It seemed as if he were distracted," she pointed out, remembering the scene.

Hermione glanced up from her cauldron, checking the magical hourglass for the time. Judging by the amount of sand remaining, she knew that she had about half an hour or so, and therefore decided to watch the surroundings to keep herself occupied. 

She glanced at a few Slytherins in the corner; they were whispering amongst themselves and obviously comparing notes. She rolled her eyes and looked at Professor Snape, wondering why he wasn't reprimanding them. Regardless of the fact that they were from Slytherin, he should at least acknowledge them.

Turning to look at the teacher, she was surprised to see him staring at the wall behind her. His expression was the most relaxed she had seen him yet; his eyes were half closed, as if drowsy. His knuckles cushioned his chin as he continued to think, no doubt. Watching him for a longer moment, she thought she saw him wince, and his long fingers stroked his temples as if he were in pain.

Meaning to tell him that there were cheating students, she was about to raise her hand, when Neville's cauldron toppled over. He was distracted from his reflections; he immediately rebuked Neville, and never gave her time to inform him of his dishonest students.

Hermione had only recently become a prefect, and she was proud of that achievement. If she didn't tell Professor Snape about those people, even if they weren't in her house, then she wasn't worthy of that title.

"—good thing that Neville's potion didn't melt the table, one time it did just that. . . ." Harry cut himself off mid-sentence as Hermione stood up. "Where are you going?" he questioned instead, looking at her in mild surprise.

"I forgot to tell Professor Snape that he had some cheating students in his class, since I was distracted by Neville's Arma Liquefacio," she told them, rising from the couch. 

"You're going to tell Professor Snape?" Ron demanded incredulously. "Don't bother, he'd probably accuse you of telling lies."

"Then if he does, that's not my problem. Besides, I would've already planted the seed of doubt, and he'll have to take a closer watch at the people I'll name." Hermione allowed herself a smile. With that, she swept out of the room and hurried to where she might find him. 

Recalling that some Hufflepuff students were in his laboratory for detention (being a prefect had its quirks; she always heard the news), she hurried to the dungeons. 

Snape sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The Cure-All potion had only numbed the pain, not alleviated it, which caused him to wonder. Was his headache something major? 

But Professor Snape was known for never visiting the hospital wing. He wasn't about to go there just because of a headache.

He eyed the five Hufflepuffs in distaste as they scrubbed the dungeon floor. Couldn't they have been assigned someplace else? Professor Sprout just had to let him have the bad end of the deal, didn't she? He sighed again. At least the students were accomplishing their job fairly quickly; maybe he'd be able to turn in for the night at eleven in the evening or so. . . .

At least there are no classes tomorrow, he consoled himself. For once, I'm happy that it's Christmas break. 

Just then, a knock sounded on his door. "Come in," he said, too drained of energy to even see who it was. 

Hermione Granger stepped into the room, closing the panel behind her. Somehow, the familiar creak of the oak grated on his nerves, even if he'd heard the sound a million times before.

"What brings you here, Miss Granger?" he questioned irritably, the headache pounding inside his skull. 

"I forgot to tell you, Professor Snape," she addressed him formally, "that some of your Slytherin students were cheating during your potions exam." 

He raised an eyebrow in response to the accusation. "Pray tell, Miss Granger, what makes you think that they were cheating?" 

He could see her purse her lips. No doubt she was thinking about how he favored the Slytherins unfairly. Let her draw her conclusions.

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "But you said that no talking was to be allowed, or anything pertaining to cheating," she reasoned. "I just thought that I ought to tell you. And you reprimanded us when we were talking, even without our test papers." She did not need to elaborate further; Snape already knew that she was talking about her group of friends.

He gazed at her impassively. Finally, "Their names, Miss Granger?" 

She blinked. "Oh!" She fished for a piece of parchment in her robe and pulled it out, neatly folded. "Here, I wrote them down." She placed it on his desk. 

"What made you decide to tell?" he questioned. Perhaps your dislike towards the Slytherins?

She paused. "If I didn't, that would make me less honorable." 

"And telling would make you honorable?" 

Hermione looked at him levelly, despite the fact that he was intimidating her. "It depends what I tell and to whom I say it to, Professor." She cracked a small smile. "Would you rather that I'd have told Professor McGonagall?" 

The remark caught him by surprise. Was his platonic rivalry with Professor McGonagall that obvious, or was this girl just good at spotting things? He exhaled softly. How McGonagall would just love to scold him for his students' behavior. 

Snape chose not to answer Hermione's last remark. "Is that all you've come for?" he asked shortly, his mood not improved by the Hufflepuffs peering at them curiously from behind Hermione's back. "Work!" he barked at them, and they all yelped and scrubbed furiously. Hermione, meanwhile, cringed slightly. 

"Yes," she nodded. "Good evening, Professor Snape." She headed for the door. As she was swinging it open, it groaned on its hinges, making him wince. Hermione turned to look at him curiously. 

"I hope you don't mind me saying," she piped up, "but you look like you've had a headache since Potions, Professor." 

"Very objective of you," he responded tersely. 

"Just thought you'd like to know that it was a little obvious." 

"Was it, really?" he murmured more to himself than to her. 

She tucked her hair behind her ear again, the honey-colored strands falling into place upon her shoulders. "Your pupils are kind of dilated, and you look a bit more sallow. . . .I would say that it's not some normal headache, because headaches usually don't do as much damage to people as yours seems to have done to you, unless it is something serious."

He glanced up at her with slightly narrowed eyes. Her pert remark was unexpected, although not entirely resented. He let his eyes hold hers for some time until she backed a step, feeling his silent scrutiny bear down on her. Her response elicited a slight spark of humor from him. Being a teacher definitely had its advantages; a good teacher was able to make most people—generally students—cower under his gaze.

"I could deduct points from your house for talking with disrespect to a professor," he told her coolly, watching with a bit of sadistic amusement as Hermione's expression changed to one of alarm. "But I would only do such a thing if your remarks had no sense to them. Now out, before I lose my temper and still take points for nagging a teacher."

She exhaled a sigh of relief. She nodded wordlessly and resumed her exit, bidding him good night once more and shutting the entryway behind her. 

Snape glared at the Hufflepuffs, who had once again dropped their brushes to ogle. "I won't warn you another time if this happens again, or the whole lot of you will be working here once more for a detention you have earned from me." They nodded hastily and returned to their work. 

He curled his fingers into the sleeves of his robes. His head seemed to hurt even more.

-----

A/N: As for the last line, "he curled his fingers into the sleeves of his robes," I couldn't help but put that because I noted that he did something similar to that during the movie. I think it was right after he saw Draco Malfoy and right before he started with his "bottle fame, brew glory and stopper death" speech. I had interpreted it as a movement of irritation or as a comfort habit, like sucking one's thumb. :)

I didn't make Snape that vindictive in this fic, neither did I make him too nice. I really had quite some difficulty tempering his reactions to things to form a plausible persona for him. 

The line "like a malevolent bat" was taken from one of the books. I just found it so cute. :)

Snape's headache has a major portion in this too, just like his dreams. :)


	3. Chapter 2

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 2"

By The Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: To those who commented on the first chapter, you also have my gratitude. It inspires one to write when people give their opinions on the written piece. I also would like to thank my beta readers for their patience in editing this chapter. This part was particularly problematic for some reason, but thankfully, my betas were able to help me sort it out. :)

Basically this chapter is when the plot shoves off. Most things won't be explained just yet, but I guess this is where I make everything _really_ start.

This chapter focuses more on Harry, Ron and Hermione, with a bit of Snape in the beginning. As much as I hate leaving Severus out, that's how the plot goes. Don't worry; there'll be much, _much_ more of him in chapter 3. :)

-----

The dungeon was stifling hot. Snape looked around groggily, trying to assess the situation. He was alone in the Potions dungeon, having fallen asleep after checking some test papers. Usually, the laboratory was freezing, especially during the winter season. Why was it scorching?

_He glanced around and noticed with alarm that wisps of smoke had billowed forth from the crack beneath the oak door. Flashes of orange could be seen through the gaps between the wood._

_The last thing he remembered was taking down the grades, then nothing. _

_Cursing himself for losing track of things, he grabbed his wand, pocketed it, and rushed to the doorway. Throwing the heavy panels open, he was assailed by the sight of everything smoldering in a great holocaust. The portraits were reduced to ashes, the beautiful tapestries down to nothing but pieces of burnt cloth._

_The classrooms were empty; items were splayed around, as if abandoned in a rush. _

_Consoling himself that everyone else must be safe, Snape sprinted to the front doors leading to the outside. The flames nipped at his robes, singeing most of the material, while the heat penetrated his clothes, almost unbearable to his skin. The smoke made visibility near zero, and it seared his lungs painfully. _

_Finally reaching the entrance, he stumbled through the threshold and took in gulps of the clean, night air. The cool wind soothed his throat as he regained his breath. _

_"A minute too late," a cold voice remarked.  _

_"You bastard . . . Have you no sense of loyalty to your own school?" Snape growled, choking on both his anger and of lack of oxygen. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wand, but the man was a second faster._

_"Avada Kedavra!" _

The words had sounded so real. Snape bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat. Heaving breaths to calm himself, he fell back on his bed, glancing at the stars outside his window. They twinkled brightly in the velvet sky that cloaked all of England. High in the heavens hung the crescent moon, peeping through a thick layer of clouds, while pristine flakes of snow drifted downward to canopy the castle in a blanket of sparkling white. Everything looked normal. Beautiful, even.

He shut his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. It was just a dream.

"I know you hate staff meetings, but this is quite unusual." 

Snape awoke from his stupor as McGonagall's voice interrupted his thoughts. He swore internally at having been caught drifting off. He was thinking about the dream again; the details seemed to dwell his mind.

The witch was looking at him severely, as if he were her student. 

"What is?" he asked absently, cushioning his cheek upon his knuckles as he shook his head in annoyance. 

"You don't usually stop listening to daydream," she replied. "Not when the topic is Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black?" His irritation swelled almost palpably. "Why is _he_ the subject?" He glanced at the hourglass, cursing mentally in impatience as it showed ten in the morning. One more hour. 

"This is odd as well; you haven't been keeping up with the news." McGonagall's mouth flattened into a thin line. Snape narrowed his eyes. She was obviously trying not to smile. _Blasted woman_. Why did such a difficult person have to be the head of his rival house? 

She gestured to the front, where Dumbledore was conversing with the rest of the teachers.

"The accusations have come a bit late, don't you think?" Professor Sinistra was saying. 

"I agree. Why didn't they say it earlier?" Professor Flitwick nodded. 

"I guess tha' they thought it was obvious," Hagrid shrugged, although he looked worried. "Like with me an' my bein' half-breed." He never talked about the subject freely unless the situation was of importance, and obviously this one was. 

"They never should have let him escape," Professor Trelawney remarked in that misty voice of hers. "I foresee that much destruction is to come about, because of this rumor. . . ."

"Isn't that apparent?" McGonagall snapped.

"This is sad; it just _had_ to happen before the trip to Hogsmeade. . . ." Professor Sprout sighed.

"Sirius Black, a Death Eater?" Professor Flitwick shook his head. 

Snape nearly jumped out of his chair. That was preposterous! 

_The work of either a lunatic or a genius,_ he thought as confusion wormed its way into his mind. Of course, it all made sense. When Black escaped from Azkaban, everyone knew that he was a criminal thought to be on Voldemort's side, but no one had actually stated out loud that he was a Death Eater. Now that someone _had_ said that he could be one, it would cause a bigger stir. The question was . . . Why at that point in time? What was the purpose?

"We must stay alert." Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes uncharacteristically subdued as he peered at the teachers from behind his spectacles. 

It was a beautiful Saturday morning with the prospect of Christmas vacation fresh in the students' minds. A few groups of students milled about in the common rooms, while others proceeded to the great hall to have breakfast. 

"Thank goodness there's nothing to worry about anymore," Harry yawned as they walked down the staircase. "All exams are finished, and all we'll have to do is wait for the results."

"I'm _so_ excited," Ron muttered sarcastically. 

"If you had studied, then you wouldn't be griping so much right now," Hermione lectured, bracing her hands on her hips. "But anyway, I won't waste my time on trying to convince you to actually study." 

They reached the great hall, settled down into their house table and began to eat their breakfasts at a leisurely pace. 

"Here comes the mail," Hermione said as the rush of owls flew over their heads, dropping parcels into the laps or into the food of their owners. An owl nearly released the subscription of Hermione's _Daily Prophet_ into Harry's bacon and eggs; luckily he had caught it and saved it from splattering his breakfast. 

The headline immediately caught his eye. 

"Sirius Black accused of being Death Eater?" he retorted dubiously. 

Hermione and Ron looked at him in surprise. They both clamored to get the newspaper from him, Ron winning because he was a head taller than Hermione. They spread the front page out on the table and read it hastily. 

"Someone raided the Ministry of Magic last night, and the dossier of Sirius Black was taken?" Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "The files on the Death Eaters as well . . . It all makes sense, why he's thought to be one of them. It rarely is coincidence that one would erase his own name with the names of the accused Death Eaters, unless he was on their side. If he _did_ do this, then he was blatantly declaring to the world that he was one of them!" 

"I don't believe this." Harry's eyes flashed in anger. "Sirius wouldn't do this! He's _not_ on Voldemort's side!"

"Don't say You-Know-Who's name!" Ron hissed. 

"We know that," Hermione replied edgily in unison with Ron's fearful comment. 

"Maybe they just want to ruin his reputation," Ron suggested, his face paler than usual. 

"His name is bad enough as it is," Harry said exasperatedly.

Each of them looked equally shaken as the other. "I think . . ." Hermione said carefully, "that this is a hoax to frame him. To those who don't know the truth about Sirius, this all makes sense. But to us . . . We know otherwise." 

"You're right," Harry nodded. "But what do we do?" 

"Write to Sirius," Hermione suggested. Harry nodded and hurriedly dug into his bag and pockets for parchment, ink and a quill. He scribbled a letter to his godfather, asking if Sirius knew about the happenings, and what the older man was going to do about it. After finishing, they headed to the Owlery and sent the note off on Hedwig. 

Harry watched the snowy owl anxiously as it took flight. "What do you suppose is going to happen?" he asked. 

His two friends looked at him helplessly.

The three spent the entire day and the next morning thinking about the situation. It seemed to them that waiting for Sirius' response was nothing short of letting him get arrested. 

"What if they put him back in Azkaban?" Harry said worriedly as they prepared for Hogsmeade.

Hermione knew that Harry valued Sirius' freedom, because earlier on, Sirius had told Harry that he would be taking the boy in when his name was cleared. But really, Harry's nervousness was making him exaggerate things a bit.

"Will you be patient?" she admonished, although she searched the clear skies for Hedwig as well. "Complaining about it won't get you anywhere." 

"I just feel like we _have_ to do something," Harry insisted as he scanned the article yet again. 

"Want to play a game of chess to take your mind off it?" Ron proposed as he spotted his brothers, Fred and George, finish their game. 

Harry looked incredibly relieved for a distraction. "Sure," he agreed, and with a quick word to Hermione, they went to the board. 

_This is all very suspicious,_ Hermione thought as she reread the paper. It was easier for her to think when the two boys were away; there were usually fewer disturbances and less noise. 

But she didn't have as much time as she would've wanted to have, because at that very moment, Professor McGonagall came in and declared that everyone going to Hogsmeade was to proceed to the great hall. 

They toured around the village, enjoying themselves and pushing the matter of Sirius Black out of their minds for a while. But a hushed murmur returned the issue to their heads, as well as a new suspicion. 

"This is really good," Ron said happily as he chewed on a licorice lollipop from Honeydukes. The three of them strolled down the sidewalks, contented with their purchases and savoring the momentary freedom.

"It's great, their new supplies," Harry agreed as he ate a sugared cinnamon quill. 

"Why don't we stop by the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer? We could really use some now," Hermione suggested, noticing that all of them were flushed with the cold. 

"Good idea," Ron grinned, and they took the next turn, which lead to the tavern.

As they were making their way down the street, they ran across an odd looking pair with a very interesting conversation. 

"If you ask me, I'm surprised that they haven't figured it out before," the shorter and older man of the two whispered, his dark blue eyes darting to and fro nervously. "I mean, if Sirius Black was on the side of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, wouldn't it be obvious that he's a Death Eater? He's probably the leader of the lot!" 

Hermione caught Harry's eye as they listened. Ron tapped their shoulders, and they slowed their walk.

"I heard that they spotted a ripped part of his dossier in the Moonshine Tavern," the other one said. He looked calmer in comparison to his partner, yet somehow more stressed. "You know that place has a bad reputation. The people there must be keeping it quiet, lest the Ministry of Magic get a wind of it." 

"Moonshine Tavern," Hermione muttered aloud as the two men disappeared behind the corner. 

"Have you heard of that place?" Ron asked in puzzlement. 

Hermione shook her head. "Is that even here in Hogsmeade?" 

"We can't exactly ask, can we?" Harry said in annoyance. "That would make _us_ look suspicious, and it wouldn't help Sirius' case if we were discovered to be linked to him one way or the other." 

"Maybe we could search the entire town," Ron said hopefully.

"Right," Hermione replied, raising an eyebrow. "Be practical. That would take us two days, at the least." 

"Here's an idea," Harry cleared his throat, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Since this Moonshine Tavern is something we haven't heard of, it's probably in the lesser known parts of Hogsmeade, if it's even here. We could search around the outskirts, and if we find it, we're lucky. And besides, we could still sneak out using my invisibility cloak and the trapdoor leading to Honeydukes." 

"Besides, Hogsmeade isn't _that_ big," Ron said dubiously.

"We have about four hours before we have to return to school. Do we start now?" Hermione questioned, glancing at her watch. 

"We might as well. We're close enough to the edges of the village anyway," Ron shrugged. 

Strengthening their resolves, they hurried on their way, skipping their visit to the Three Broomsticks. 

After walking for some time, they still hadn't found the bar they were looking for. Dusk had come, and the horizon had already darkened to the inky black of night. 

Exhausted, flustered and frustrated, the three sat on benches that lined the road, sighing tiredly as they rested their aching feet. 

"We haven't gotten anywhere. We've only spotted _one_ tavern, and no one was in it except for some old guy sipping tea." Ron's expression was one of disappointment. 

"We've only gone halfway," Harry encouraged them as he regained his breath. They had chosen to run the last few blocks, thereby enervating themselves further. 

"If only we knew how to Apparate," Ron complained, wincing as he rubbed his calves. "We could just return to the entrance of Hogsmeade without that much work."

"Maybe we should start heading back," Hermione exhaled sharply as she stood again. "We could try again tomorrow." 

"Let's just finish looking at this block, then let's walk back," Harry said. 

They strode down the last bend. What they saw was a dead end. 

"Smashing." Ron's statement dripped sarcasm. "All those extra steps for nothing . . ."

"Wait." Hermione stepped forward, eyeing the brick wall before her. "Maybe this is like Diagon Alley; you need some sort of code or something . . ." She inched forward, examining the barrier. 

When she placed her hand on the center of the partition, the surface glowed bright red. Hermione jerked her palm back in surprise, hurriedly taking a few steps back. Harry and Ron came forward, looking at what had happened in curiosity. The crimson light formed words: Access Denied. Underage.

"What?!" Ron yelled. "All that work, to discover that we're underage?" He looked about ready to murder. 

"Do you suppose that this _is_ Moonshine Tavern?" Harry questioned skeptically. "What if it isn't? Or what if the rumor we followed wasn't even true?" 

"For heaven's sake," Hermione snapped. "We did _not_ walk all that way just for nothing. We're going to find out. And if the rumor isn't true, maybe we can still gather some information from this Moonshine Tavern. There's bound to be gossip we can dig up at a bar." She ran her fingers agitatedly through her hair and observed the wall again. The words had already faded. 

"Look, this isn't that far from the Three Broomsticks," Harry piped up as he peered past the shop to their right. "We could just go straight ahead from here, and four more streets and we're there." He pointed at a dingy alleyway. 

"Better than walking all that way," Ron answered scathingly. "Now, let's take that shortcut so we can get back to Hogwarts without being late." 

As they returned to their meeting point with the rest of the Hogwarts contingent, they pondered how they could possibly get in. 

"I don't think that we should use an aging potion," Hermione said, swiping her hand in the air. "We'll have to take that at an hourly basis, like a Polyjuice Potion. The more you take, the older you get, but only for an hour. The amount of potion has nothing to do with how long it is in effect."

"So, what do we do now?" Ron inquired crossly, apparently still irritated at having to walk such a long distance back. 

"I'll research on it," Hermione offered tiredly. "And Harry, I don't think it's such a good idea for you to come along. . . ."

"Why not?" he asked indignantly. 

"Because you're _you_," Hermione answered impatiently. "Even if you looked older, you'd still look like Harry Potter. You'd most likely get yourself in trouble, especially if you were discovered to be searching for Sirius. Imagine what that would cost your reputation _and_ his." She interrupted him as he was about to open his mouth to argue. "If you're not worrying about how much trouble it would bring you, think of how much it would bring to Sirius." 

"She's got a point," Ron agreed reluctantly, exhaling in relief as they passed the last street. 

"Oh, all right," Harry said bracingly. "But I'd still like to help." 

"Then help us research," Hermione said.

"Us?" Ron interrupted. 

"Yes, _us_," she affirmed, fixing him with a stern glare. He relented with much vocal protests. 

-----

A/N: For some reason, I had a _lot_ of difficulty with this chapter. *Sigh* Hopefully, the coming of the next chapters will be smoother.

I chose "moonshine" for the name of the tavern because it all fits in. It can mean: 1.) Moonlight; 2.) Nonsense; or 3.) Illegally distilled whiskey. Take a pick. :)


	4. Chapter 3

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 3"

By The Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: Finally, more of Severus! :) Many thanks to those who commented and to my betareaders, Misao and Sicaria. You two help immensely! :)

A thought came into my mind that perhaps I shall use for the latter parts of my story, if I plan to use it at all. Hermione was the person to solve Snape's riddle in the 1st book when they were trying to get to the Sorcerer's Stone. Would that make her intellect a match for Snape's? Or would that just say that she had a lot of logic, which Snape has too? My friend told me that it was harder to make a riddle than to solve one; I personally agree. But to unravel the mystery of a riddle, one must be thinking along the lines of the person who made it in the first place. But anyway, I should save this discussion for another day. :)

-----

Snape drummed his fingers on the polished surface of the wooden table. He narrowed his eyes as he read the newspaper article. It had served to be the day's source of preoccupation, much to his disdain. Couldn't people see that it was too blatant? 

_It is all obviously a hoax,_ he thought, scoffing in exasperation. _Although a well-staged one._

He had to admit that the article had made a lot of sense regarding the issue. Black's dossier was taken, along with the files on the Death Eaters. No wonder the writer accused the supposed criminal of being one of them. 

_It's too obvious._ Snape shook his head in disgust. _I'm sure some will remain skeptical. But to those who don't know the truth, this is like light shining on the subject. Sadly, more people do _not_ know the real story._

Annoyance still surged through him at the thought that Sirius Black would be accused as a Death Eater. _In all my days here at Hogwarts with Black, he is one of the least likely to be drawn into the Dark side. He was too . . . _loyal _to James._ The reflections were accompanied by self-abhorrence, somehow magnified by his dislike for Black. _Besides, I never saw him at our . . . meetings. And he wouldn't be cunning enough to even _get _to a meeting._

He cushioned his cheek on his knuckles and stared at the _Daily Prophet_ idly as his thoughts formed themselves. The reason why someone would want to frame Black wasn't very clear to him. The man's reputation was sullied enough; there was no possible gain to be elicited from the ploy. 

_Maybe I'm just not thinking the way a Death Eater should, _he thought with a sigh. _Or maybe I'm just not thinking as clearly as I would like to._ He scowled as his temples throbbed slightly. His headache was still present, but thankfully, it had lessened in intensity. Still, it was a hindrance to certain things, like coherent thought.

_Maybe I'm beginning to be immune to the Cure-All potion. _Snape exhaled in frustration and bent over his desk, pillowing his forehead on the teak. _It's not as if it hasn't happened before._

Resolving to find another potion that would have the same effect, Snape shut his eyes and decided to sleep for a while, despite the fact that his spine was already protesting from the awkward position.

Just as he was about to succumb to the clutches of slumber, he heard a tapping upon his windowpane. He opened one eye irritably to peer at whatever was making the infernal racket. It turned out to be an owl, fluttering behind the glass. Curiosity piqued, wondering who would send him mail, he made his way to the window and pushed it open. The owl fluttered in, landed on his desk and held out its leg, where a letter was attached. Snape took it and unrolled the fresh parchment, immediately recognizing the scrawl with a sickening lurch of his stomach.

_Let us discuss the news, shall we? I'll meet you and a bit of the old crowd at Moonshine Tavern, 6:30 P.M., today._

There was no name signed. There was no need for it; the handwriting was familiar enough.

The owl stared unblinkingly at him, making his skin crawl unpleasantly. It was obviously waiting for a response. 

Tearing off the lower portion of the letter, Snape wrote his response, affirming his decision to come. He secured it to the leg of the owl and sent it off.

_Time to tell Headmaster Dumbledore._

Deciding to do so, he rubbed his sleep-laden eyes and moved in the direction of Dumbledore's office, noting that he had about an hour to prepare—to steel—himself. One always had to have his wits about him when meeting with the Death Eaters.

Dumbledore was just writing a letter to Flourish and Blotts regarding a shipment of books he was expecting when a knock sounded on his door. 

"Come in," he said loudly, mildly surprised to see Snape step in. The Potions master was wearing a most dismal expression that no doubt meant bad news.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape began, clearing his throat. "I received a letter from Lucius Malfoy today. He asked me to meet him at Hogsmeade. I already sent an owl with my reply, saying that I will attend the meeting."

Dumbledore sighed, lowering his quill. "I was wondering when he'd summon you again." He dipped the tip of his feather into the inkbottle and peered at it for a moment, then lowered it back into the bottle and fixed his gaze on Snape. "I suppose they want to talk to you about the recent events?"

"Yes," Snape said, nodding jerkily. 

"At least maybe some light will be shed on the subject of Sirius Black," Dumbledore said. "You must find out as much about it as you can. Perhaps we shall discover what the involvement the Death Eaters have with the problem." 

"Do you think, headmaster, that the Lucius Malfoy has something to do with the raid in the Ministry of Magic?" Snape questioned sharply. 

"It is possible," the older man nodded. He stood up and walked to his phoenix, Fawkes, who watched benignly from his perch. The majestic bird fixed an eye on Snape and let out a quivering note, rustling its scarlet and gold plumage.

"Are you feeling ill at ease?" Dumbledore asked. "Fawkes seems to think so."

There was a terse pause. "Slightly," the professor answered.

"It is natural, I presume, since you have decided to turn your back on your old crowd. Only a fool is not afraid. But keep in mind that there is nothing to fear but fear itself." The headmaster fixed him with that piercing blue gaze of his. "Good luck, Severus." 

Snape took this as his cue to leave. He nodded jerkily and proceeded to the door.

"Best be off with you," Dumbledore added. "And now, I will return to my note regarding _Poisonous Plants and Whatnot_. Flourish and Blotts seems to have gone out of stock." His eyes twinkled once again as he watched Snape leave. 

"I'm sure that you can handle it; Mr. Malfoy shouldn't be a bother. In fact, I can still recall very clearly that he was rather intimidated by you during your earlier years together," Dumbledore added. Snape looked at him in surprise, and he just smiled sagely.

Adrenaline thrummed through his veins. Snape strode down the hallway briskly, as if quickening his pace would leave the negative emotions behind. 

_This is ridiculous._ He shook his head at his apprehension as he made a turn through a secret passageway. 

_What's the worst that can happen?_ He pushed the doors open and stepped into his room. He swung the boards with so much force that they banged on the wall, making him grimace. 

_I could be revealed._ His robes landed in a crumpled heap on his bed as he threw on fresh ones. _My status could be jeopardized. Everything that I've worked for could vanish._

_Stop!_ He took a moment to breathe, leaning on the post of his canopy bed. His head pounded sharply. _Nothing is going to happen. This is just a meeting regarding the news._

Snape rubbed the back of his neck wearily, resisting the urge to just fall on his knees in weakness. He knew that his perturbed emotional state stemmed his poor physical state. If only he had time to brew a potion, then all would have been fine. 

Relinquishing his grip on the column, he put on a heavy cloak and took the secret passageway leading outside the school. 

He reached Hogsmeade at a quarter past six, meaning that he had fifteen minutes to reach Moonshine Tavern. Punctuality was something Lucius Malfoy took rather personally; the man tended to get angered whenever others were late. 

Voldemort was particular with punctuality too. One minute late and the Cruciatus Curse.

Snape rushed to the dead end and pressed his palm to the brick wall, glancing around for any passersby. His hand momentarily glowed a sparkling red, and then the wall receded until it formed a doorway. Snape passed through it, and the bricks moved to their original structure.

The pub was dingy, noisy and filled with smoke. A piano played at the far end of the room, while several rather suspicious looking people sat around tables and drank.

Snape swam his way through the crowd, déjà vu churning in his belly.

When he was younger, the Death Eaters would gather at a pub similar to that one, but it was eventually blown up by the Ministry of Magic when it was discovered to be a Death Eater meeting place. 

The Moonshine Tavern had only been a secondary option then, until the loss of their first. The Death Eaters only gathered at the bar only when they wanted to mingle a bit and have a spot of liquor. Snape actually thought that it was also to get away from Malfoy's mansion, where most parties were held. Splendid as the place was, Malfoy was a bit _too_ cocky about its appearance.

He reached the extreme end of the tavern and felt around for the trapdoor. The procedure was the same; he held his palm to the door and it glowed crimson. He pushed it open and stepped through, immediately shutting it behind him. 

He was in a corridor of stone; torches lit the walkway eerily, flickering as he moved past them. 

He had only been to this area once, and it was just before Voldemort's downfall. The sensation of being there _again_ sent prickles of trepidation up his spine.

Several doors lined the hall, but he dared not open them. He did not want to know what was hidden behind those doors. He only knew that he had access to the last one at the end.

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, Snape looked at the right door. If he was not mistaken, that was the way leading to the sitting room.

He went through the threshold. 

The surroundings were dim, but the light cast by the embers in the fireplace illuminated the place just enough for it to be visible. Noticeably the room was less seedy; in fact, the furnishings looked rather on the expensive side. Leather couches surrounded a brick hearth; beside it were bookshelves filled with what looked like expensive volumes. A mahogany centerpiece lay between the sofas and the fireplace, and on top of it were a few bottles of wine and glasses. On the other side of the room lay a desk with parchment scattered all over the surface.

_Yes, déjà vu._

A few people looked up at his entrance. 

"So glad you could come, Severus," a cold, drawling voice remarked from the shadows.

"Yes, so am I," Snape sneered, noting how Draco sounded _so_ much like his father. 

"I detect sarcasm." Lucius Malfoy emerged from the niche behind the bookshelves, where he seemed to have been searching for something. He held a thick book in his left hand and a glass in another. Snape also noted how looks ran in their family. _Like father, like son._

"Have a drink," another man said from the couch, the cinders casting ghostly shadows on his face. 

"Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle." Snape stated their names and gave them all a curt nod. He strode to the sitting area, his feet padding soundlessly on the carpeted floor. Avery handed him a glass near overflowing with red wine. Snape took it grudgingly and wet his lips to appear courteous. 

"So, how have you been keeping yourself?" Malfoy leered, sauntering over to them like he was drunk. Perhaps he was.

"Rather well," Snape replied darkly. His voice seemed unusually loud in his ears in the enclosed space. 

"I'm sure," Malfoy laughed. Suddenly, Snape felt his head throb again. The sound of Malfoy's guffaw grated on his nerves. He raised a hand to rub his forehead.

"You've got a headache?" Malfoy taunted. "Can't even brew a potion to relieve it? Potions master indeed. Oh yes, I forget, you would rather be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." He made a humming noise and turned to return the book to the shelves.

_Do you want to know why?_ Snape questioned mentally as sinister, scathing thoughts ran through his head.

"Did you call me here just to insult me?" he demanded instead, his black eyes glittering dangerously behind the fall of hair. It was not a direct threat, but the low timbre of his voice made it so. Malfoy ignored the warning.

"No. I summoned you here to ask your opinion. What do you think of the news, Severus?" the man asked him, those unnerving silvery blue eyes watching him from behind his glass of wine.

"It puzzles me why you would frame him to be a Death Eater," he answered brusquely, tucking his hands into the folds of his overcoat. "I honestly don't see the point, since everyone already thinks that he's the biggest supporter of Voldemort."

His response was met with laughter from all sides. 

"And I thought you were clever, Snape," Macnair told him obnoxiously. 

"It's simple, but brilliant," Malfoy said with a sardonic chuckle. "I suppose that you always try to look at the bigger picture, eh, Snape? Look at it on a simpler level and maybe you'll understand." He smirked and took a swig of his drink. "But I suggest that you find a new potion to heal that headache of yours. You look paler than usual. How long have you had it?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Snape muttered. "I've had it for a few days now." _Yes, open yourself to more insults._

"And it hasn't left?" Malfoy clicked his tongue. He had returned to the bookcase, running his fingers over the covers. "My, that could be serious.

"Come take a look at these books, there might be some that will interest you," he said, abruptly changing the topic. 

Snape had always had a love for books; everyone who knew him knew that. His passion for written works was part and parcel of his being, along with his love for potions, of course. 

_No harm in looking at books,_ he thought warily, rising to join Malfoy by the thick cabinet. 

His eyes widened as he read the titles on the spines. There were books on complex potions and how to brew them. There were books on scarce ingredients and how to handle them. There were books on certain ways to concoct potions to alter their effect. But what shocked him most was that those books were rare. Rare and advanced. He had been looking for those books for years, and some of them for decades.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, running his fingertips reverently over the silken-bound spine of a particularly fascinating book he would have loved to get his hands on. "And why?" he distractedly added as an afterthought.

"Where? Other countries around eastern Europe." Malfoy paused to look at him shrewdly. "Why? Why does my motive interest you?" He turned back to look at the volumes.

Snape chose to hold his silence, keeping his gaze trained on the shelves. 

Malfoy exhaled softly. "Your love for books, I assume." He had answered his own question. 

"Gentlemen," he said, facing all the people in the room. "I must leave. An appointment with the Ministry of Magic awaits." He smiled rather nastily. "Have to keep up with appearances, don't we? Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, we might as well go." He turned to look at Avery. "I'll be seeing you again?" he inquired.

"The next time we have a meeting like this." Avery gave a swift nod. Everyone stood up and fixed their appearances. 

Snape lingered, reading the names of the books. Some he hadn't even heard of. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore would be able to enlighten him. He noted the titles, then moved towards the exit, not wanting to be left alone in the chamber. 

He felt like his brain had no more oxygen left in it; the pain was there again, tightening around his head. Snape took in deep breaths as he returned to the streets of Hogsmeade. The cold wintry air stung his throat as he inhaled deeply. It was of no use; no matter how hard he tried to rid himself of the headache, it always remained. 

It had started to snow again, making the houses look like gingerbread cottages with the snowflakes as frosting. 

_How cozy,_ he thought irately, patting his arms to keep him warm. He just wanted to return to the castle as soon as possible. But the sight of Hogsmeade looking like it was something straight out of a fairy tale somehow reassured him in a way; it was sharp relief from the ambiance of the tavern.

The appearance of Moonshine Tavern was too familiar for comfort. He honestly wondered how Malfoy and the rest of his cronies could deal with the sensation of being there again. He exhaled and pushed the thought out of his mind, telling himself that trying to decipher Lucius Malfoy was near impossible. 

Snape pulled out a gold pocket watch from his sleeve and glanced at the time. A quarter to eight. 

I'll tell Dumbledore about how the gathering went. Afterwards, I may have enough time to eat dinner. If I have the strength, I'll make another potion.

He kneaded his nape exhaustedly. _Or maybe I'll just tell Dumbledore, then go to sleep._

Frustrated at having to walk such a long distance, Snape decided to Apparate, arriving near the gates of Hogwarts. He pushed the steel bars open and entered the grounds, grateful to be back on school grounds. 

-----

A/N: Snape's line "maybe I'm just not thinking the way a Death Eater should" has some relevance to the line Crouch Jr. said to Karkaroff: "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do. . . ."

The line "one always had to have his wits about him . . ." was derived from the movie when Filch said "got to have your wits about you" before Hagrid, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco went into the forest.

The lines about fear were derived from Madeleine L'Engle's book _A Wrinkle In Time_. 

My, so much derived lines. :)

Just a thought. . . . Quite a number of people asked me what "teak" was. Teak is a kind of wood. :)


	5. Chapter 4

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 4"

By The Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: And again, a chapter bereft of Severus. *sigh* I really must do something about these intervals; I think that I should shift between characters more instead of making a chapter centered on one.

As I was reading the 1st book for the nth time, I read a line that had a very intriguing line: "Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them [Harry and Ron] like an angry goose." J.K. Rowling has the drollest descriptions. :) Oh, and as for the line "like a malevolent bat" in chapter 1, it turns out it was "gliding forward like a large and malevolent bat." *grin*

-----

Words swam before her eyes, inscribed on the worn page that held the table of contents. Most of them were in Latin, French or some other ancient tongue, emblazoned on the paper with shiny black ink that had long faded with the centuries. 

She ran her fingers lightly over the rough and brittle surface of the parchment as she scanned the titles of the potions. The book seemed to beckon to her, whispering in ancient languages, imploring her to read it.

Potions of great complexity lay beyond the twine that held its mulberry leaves closed. Potions that required patience, presence of mind and intellect, potions that turned to poison with one slip of the hand, with one excess drop.

A challenge, was it not? A Gryffindor was brave and daring. 

Her eyes drank in the names of the potions. . . . And finally, an aging potion.

She flipped through the pages carefully and found the right one. She read it eagerly, taking in the procedure. 

"Perfect!" she hissed. 

"For a second there, I thought you looked rather like a mad scientist," Harry whispered. 

Hermione glanced up from the book, perplexity wrought clearly on her features. "What did you say?" Apparently, she hadn't heard him.

Ron stifled a snigger. "He said that you looked batty."

Harry and Ron were huddled up underneath Harry's invisibility cloak as Hermione searched the shelves for encyclopedias. When she had found quite a number of books to study, she just sat beside them on the floor and read as if they weren't there. 

Earlier on during December, she had been doing an Arithmancy project for Professor Vector and was allowed access to the Restricted Section. The three of them had taken advantage of that freedom (although Harry and Ron had to keep themselves from being seen; they weren't allowed in there, only Hermione was) and had decided to look for an aging potion while it was still peaceful; they were rather sure that things were going to get vicious by the time the issue of Sirius Black had been dwelt upon long enough.

"_Batty_, eh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow and smiled rather wryly. "Why don't you try looking at yourself when you're discussing Quidditch with Ron?"

"What's wrong when I discuss Quidditch with Ron?" Harry demanded. 

"The manic glint in your eye . . . Oh, Ron's just as bad too, when he makes those arm gestures of his." Hermione smiled as both of them sputtered beneath the cloak.

"_Arm gestures_?" Ron finally hissed. 

"You know what I mean, whenever you describe something that's happening in Quidditch, you just _have_ to move your hands round as well," she replied keenly. 

"I do not!" 

"You do too, and Harry can vouch for that," Hermione told him. 

"I don't. Right, Harry?" 

"Well, you _do_. . . . Kind of . . . I mean, you have a tendency to wave your hands about sometimes. . . ." Harry seemed to be at a loss for words. 

Hermione gave them both a rather self-satisfied grin and glanced at her book again. 

"Before you two interrupted me, I was about to tell you that I've found the perfect potion!" she said, pointing to a page. "It's called the _Aevum._" She squinted at the recipe. 

"The _Aevum_ is a complex potion that requires the drinker's blood and a piece of their skin," she said. Harry and Ron blanched. "It makes you age depending on the amount you drink, and . . . Oh . . ."

"What is it? We have to put our entire hand in or something?" Ron said disgustedly. 

"It adds the years you drank to your age _permanently_. For example, if you drink it when you're twenty to make yourself twenty-two, for the rest of your life, you'll have two years added to your age. So when you're twenty-two you'll really be twenty-four, and so forth." 

"Permanently?" Harry repeated. "We can't be two to three years older than our normal age _permanently_!" he exclaimed. 

"I know that," Hermione scoffed. "But it says here that this potion can pass age lines, because it's _permanent_, and the effect has something to do with altering your body's chemistry." 

"Sounds dodgy," Ron said dubiously. "But how often are we going to find aging potions that pass protected areas?" 

"Still, I don't think that adding two years to our age forever would be such a good idea," Harry said, looking distinctly ruffled at the idea. 

"I still think that this is the best potion to use, but let's just put a bookmark on it, shall we? I mean, if we find a better potion, then that's good. If not, we return to this and just think of a way to get around the 'aging permanently' business," Hermione said. She placed a folded sheet of parchment onto the page and shut the book. 

"Oh no, what time is it?" Harry asked suddenly. The invisibility cloak moved about a bit.

"It's nearly six," Ron answered. "Why?"

"I forgot that I had Quidditch practice today!" Harry bolted out of the cloak. "I'll leave this here with Ron and run through the back of the shelves, making it seem as if I came from the far end of the library. I'll just see you guys at the common room later, okay?" he said breathlessly. 

"Sure," Hermione gave him a nod, and he sprinted off, disappearing behind the towering bookcases.

"You know, the _Aevum_ sounds a tad scary," Ron piped up as Hermione picked up another encyclopedia. 

"Doesn't it?" Hermione said distractedly as she peered at the peeling letters engraved on the hardbound book. "Well, slicing off a part of your finger or something sounds horrible," she muttered. "But we _have_ to do something about Sirius' case." She squinted at the words on the cover. "_Poisonous Potions and Poisons_. No. . . ." she cleared her throat and opened another book.

"I know this will sound spineless after all we've done in our past four years here at Hogwarts, but can't we just let the Ministry of Magic handle this?" Ron said with a sigh.

Hermione laughed quietly. "I guess we could, but _most_ of them are convinced that Sirius Black _is_ on the Dark side. Only a handful of people know the truth, the three of us being part of that handful." She suddenly exhaled wearily. "And Dumbledore too. I wonder what _he's_ doing about it." 

"And I wonder what Fudge has to say about this," Ron said angrily. Cornelius Fudge was the present Minister of Magic, and a blockhead, as Ron put it. An incident in the hospital wing last year had made Fudge extremely unpopular with a few people.

"I suppose he's overjoyed." Hermione scowled and shook her head. "He's being really . . . _dense_ about You-Know-Who's reappearance." 

"Couldn't have said it better." The book with the _Aevum's_ procedure vanished beneath the cloak. 

"Hermione, this thing looks awfully complicated," Ron blurted in shock as he read the long process. "This'll take _weeks_!"

"Can't be any more difficult than the Polyjuice Potion," Hermione shrugged matter-of-factly. "The ingredients won't be too hard; some of them are found in the student cupboard. The trickier ones . . . Well, there's always Professor Snape's stores." 

"This stealing business is tricky. You don't think this is turning into a habit, do you?" Ron wondered. 

Hermione grinned. "Let's hope not." 

The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon and the earlier parts of the evening searching for other aging potions that would work. They stumbled across a few, but none of them actually passed age-protected lines, doors, et al. The last resort was the _Aevum_.

Hermione glanced out the large, glass windows that stretched twenty feet until the ceiling. The sky was dark and cloudy, and the snow had begun to fall again. 

"I guess we have to use the _Aevum_," she murmured absentmindedly as she watched the snowflakes descend in pearly sheets. 

"Are you kidding? I'm not hacking my finger off!" Ron cried, earning a "Shhh!" from Hermione. 

 "Maybe hair would work just as well," she said with a shrug. "And I'm thinking of a way to alter the potion's effect; I think that there might be another way to actually use the concoction without aging permanently." She reread the formula. 

"Wait . . . The _Aevum_ is an Ingested potion," she said, her eyes misting up in thought. "I read about how ingested potions work. . . . They work better than the other kind, because their effect is internal. But external won't be such a bad idea; the body's physical appearance is external after all. . . . How do you change the body's appearance temporarily by external means? . . . That's it!" she suddenly exclaimed, scrambling from her seat on the wooden floorboards. 

"What is?" Ron asked bemusedly, rising as well in rustles of cloth. 

Hermione turned to him, her eyes glittering with excitement. "Since the body's appearance is physical, and you could change your chemistry by physical means, we'll just have to make the _Aevum_ an On-Contact potion!" she gushed eagerly. "But still, if we _did_ make it an On-Contact potion, it would still make us age permanently, right? So what do we do to make it temporary? Put it in a charm that we can take off whenever we want to return to normal!" She started murmuring to herself, making gestures with her hands and pacing. 

"I suppose we'll have to add an ingredient that will make it wear off. . . . We could put that either on the charm, or in the formula itself. . . ."

"Hermione," Ron interrupted, "I'm glad you found a potion and all, and I really congratulate you. Now can we go?" he said, educing a laugh.

"Okay, okay," Hermione relented. "But I'm checking this book out, plus a few others. . . . I want to read on the proper way to make an On-Contact potion. . . . And I also need a book on charms and on ingredients." She darted back and forth between the shelves, pulling heavy volumes out. After a few minutes, she rushed back to Ron with a pile of books in her arms. 

"I'll go through the back of the library like Harry did. Meet you by the shelves in the Muggle Studies Section," Ron said as he took off the invisibility cloak and handed it to Hermione for keeping. She tucked it beneath her robes, gave him a swift nod and headed to the counter, handing the thick volumes to Madam Pince. After the checkout process had been completed, Ron ambled over to Hermione and gestured to the door. Together, they walked out and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. 

The common room was bright and cheerful as they entered, offsetting the darkness outside. Fred and George were once again up to their antics, having hoodwinked Seamus into eating a treacle tart with an Intoxication Charm on it. The boy was seated by the fireplace, his eyes glazed over with drunkenness as he boomed stories of the Irish countryside and the pretty hometown lasses he left behind.

"Have you two seen Harry?" Ron asked his brothers as he approached the fire.

"Yeah. He did a bit of extra training," Fred yelled over the din, covering his ears as the people roared with laughter. 

"Okay," Ron said, moving back towards Hermione. She was still passing through the portrait hole.

"How do you plan to concentrate in this racket?" he asked, gesticulating to the people crowded around the hearth. He made a face as shrieks of laughter greeted Seamus' last remark. 

"I'll stay near the end over there," Hermione replied as she moved towards her favorite armchair by the window. She curled her legs beneath her and sat on the cushion comfortably, opening the heavy manual on On-Contact potions. 

"You know, maybe asking Professor Snape would be easier," she said as Ron settled in the sofa across her. 

He snorted. "And have him snap at you. 'Miss Granger, much as this curiosity on the topic piques my interest, you are _prying_ into matters that you shouldn't be looking into. Now, I'm too lazy to tell you about On-Contact Potions, and I don't want to add to your already sizable knowledge on my subject because Gryffindors do not deserve to know more than Slytherins. So leave me be and don't bother me again.'"

"That was cruel," Hermione remarked, torn between amusement and disgust. 

"What can I say; I don't like him very much," Ron shrugged. "Don't like" was an understatement. 

Just as Hermione was about to banter in return, they spotted Harry descending down the staircase. He saw them as well and approached, looking tired and sleepy. 

"Quidditch practice was grueling," he said by way of greeting. "So, what have I missed?" he asked as he sat beside Ron. 

"Well, we were talking about how much Ron hates Snape," Hermione supplied. "But on to the important things. Firstly, we _are_ using the _Aevum_, _but_ we're using a different kind. . . ." She went on, explaining how she was going to alter the potion's form into an On-Contact potion. She also explained her guess on changing the chemistry by outward means, and using a charm so that the effects aren't permament.

"Of course, we'll need an ingredient that'll make the whole thing temporary, so I'll have to research on that too." Hermione concluded her explanation with a pat on the oversized encyclopedias she had brought along from the library. 

"We'll help you look for the ingredient," Harry offered with a yawn. 

"Good. We'll be able to enter Moonshine Tavern soon enough. Hopefully before Christmas break's over," Hermione said briskly. 

"And hopefully, Sirius' case doesn't worsen within the vacation," Ron added. "By the way," he said, lowering his voice, "have you received anything from him yet?" 

Harry shook his head tiredly. "No. I'm beginning to worry," he admitted. 

"But didn't you say that Dumbledore was keeping touch with him too?" Hermione whispered, leaning in as to catch their words. 

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Then wouldn't he say something if ever Sirius _was_ in trouble? I hardly think that Dumbledore wouldn't know," she suggested matter-of-factly. 

"I guess so," Harry agreed, relaxing visibly. "Dumbledore's really a great man." 

"Yeah, he knows what he's doing," Ron said, obviously remembering the conversation with Fudge in the hospital wing. "He's wise. He knows that we should all unite to fight You-Know-Who. I mean, Fudge obviously thinks that giants don't mesh well with us wizards, and he thinks that dementors protect us. Talk about demented." 

"I suppose it isn't Fudge's fault. I mean, he just doesn't know better, I guess." Harry proposed. "But there's no denying that Dumbledore would make a better Minister of Magic." 

"I'm happy Dumbledore's our headmaster.  He's jolly good at running the school," Ron said.

"That's it!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, startling them both. She had gone back to reading while the two boys were talking, and obviously she had discovered something in the process. 

"What is?" Ron asked for the second time that day.

"I could use a Crystallizing Charm for the potion so we could hang it by a chain," she said animatedly. "Now, all we have to do is search for the ingredient to make it wear off. . . ." 

"When are you going to start making this potion?" Harry asked. 

"Whenever I can manage to steal from Professsor Snape's stores." She suddenly looked worried. "I don't know when I'll be able to manage sneaking into his dungeon without being detected. School's out, so we can't distract him during class again."

"And I think he stays in his dungeon all the time. It certainly seems like it," Ron said as apprehension visibly dawned on his features. 

"What about on Christmas day when we all gather to eat?" Hermione suggested.

"He'll be at the tables. It's a perfect opportunity," Harry agreed. 

"But we can't be too late, or we'll look conspicuous," Ron put in. 

Hermione nodded. "Christmas isn't too far off, anyway. We could wait until then. Tomorrow, I'll get the ingredients we can find in the student cupboards."

-----

A/N: Ah, finally, the chapters focusing on only one person are finished. The next chapter will have a discussion with Professor Snape and Hermione. 

In response to LilyAyl. . . . I always imagined that Professor Snape would want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts because he knows that he's got hands-on experience, and he thinks that he could teach the students to fend against Dark magic like no one else could. :) Honestly, I think that an ex-Death Eater DADA teacher would be better than having an Auror DADA teacher. And yes, Hermione _will_ see the books later on. 

Another thought . . . I think that Snape is a powerful wizard, because in the Dueling Club in the 2nd book, he managed to cast the _finite incantatem_ and stop _all_ the spells in the Great Hall. An idea for another chapter. :)


	6. Chapter 5

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 5"

By the Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: Ah, the confrontation. The idea for this chapter sifted around a bit, that's why it took me a bit longer to write. Anyway, I fixed a loophole concerning the later chapters using this installment, so I'm very happy. :) I decided to give Draco an earlier entrance, so that his presence is expected in the later parts. . . . I won't reveal too much just yet. :)

And yes, I know that this chapter is a _bit_ late for the occasion, but what can I say? I was planning to put it out before Christmas, but I was preoccupied with the all the holiday preparations.

The comments are very helpful. To everyone who commented, my thanks. And to my beta readers, thank you as well.

Sorry if I caused any confusion by redoing the title. Someone pointed out that it had wrong grammar, and for that I am grateful. :)

-----

December 24 dawned misty and glimmering. The sunlight streamed into the Great Hall in beams of sparkling brightness, the hypnotic play of light dancing upon the walls of the castle. It seemed like the perfect Christmas . . . Or it would have been, if only Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't have so much to worry about.

But even as their minds were preoccupied with the task at hand, they didn't fail to notice the beauty of the surroundings. Evergreen garlands hung from the ceiling, decorated with tinsel; strung on golden cords were glittering crystal icicles that didn't melt; hung on nearly every branch were unbreakable glass balls of every color. A large Christmas tree stood at every corner of the hall, each one embellished with a different house theme. 

The three chose their places at their house table by the Gryffindor tree, which was bedecked with felt ribbons of scarlet and golden candles. Harry and Ron chatted away about their plans for that afternoon while Hermione remained quiet and thoughtful as she picked through her breakfast of ham, tomatoes and toast. She only spoke when the owls flew into the Great Hall.

"Here comes the mail," she interrupted their conversation as the owls swooped over their heads. 

"I don't think I'd like to go flying in this weather; I'd freeze on my broom—" Harry was saying when a piece of parchment fluttered down onto his plate. Hedwig took a moment to greet him and to dip her beak in his goblet of pumpkin juice before flying off. 

"Go on, open it!" Ron urged, his mouth stuffed with bread, eyes wide as saucers.

Harry did as he was told to. He unfolded the note shakily and passed it to Ron and Hermione. Their unspoken suspicions were confirmed—it _was_ indeed from Sirius.

" '_I received your letter just a few days ago_,'" it said on the parchment. " '_I think that Hedwig had a hard time finding me, since she usually doesn't take that long to deliver. Yes, I know what the news says about me; I try to get used issues of the_ Daily Prophet _as often as possible. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you not to worry about it. I've already gone into hiding before; this can't be any worse. _

_" 'I won't say any more. I might divulge too much information that might put you in danger if Hedwig were to fall into the wrong hands. I just wanted to tell you that I'm alright. There's no need to worry. If anything worth mentioning happens over there, just write me a note. Your owl knows where to find me_.'" It was unsigned.

Harry sighed in relief. "At least we know that he's safe."

Ron nodded. "But he didn't tell us what to do, though," he put in. 

"I don't suppose that he would; I mean, it's too dangerous to reveal too much," Harry said as he tucked the letter into his pocket. "And technically, we _do_ know what to do. We're getting the things we need soon enough."

"_I'm_ getting the ingredients," Hermione muttered, her voice low but firm. "You've already been in too much trouble before. If you're caught, there's a great chance that both of you will be expelled."

"And it's so easy for _you_ to pretend." Ron raised his voice an octave higher. " 'I just needed to experiment on something, Professor—'"

"Oh, stop it," Hermione interrupted with a snort of laughter. 

"It's true!" Ron protested indignantly.

They were just about to continue with their breakfast when an interruption came in the form of none other than Draco Malfoy.

"How touching. Potter gets a letter from his family during Christmas," a voice drawled from the fore. 

The three looked up to see Draco sneering at them, his bodyguards at each side. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. They could almost read each other's thoughts: _how much of their conversation had he heard?_

"I didn't know that you still got letters from home, Potter," Draco leered. "I thought you were unwanted. But I guess that's better than receiving nothing; isn't that right, Weasley? I see that you didn't even get anything." He smiled self-assuredly at them. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle tried to imitate his smirk, but ended up looking like their cheeks were twitching.

"Fancy picking a fight, don't you?" Ron was about to stand; his hand was already on his wand, but Hermione held him down, her lips flattened into a thin line.

The conversation was rapidly growing old. "Maybe you could think of a better insult, Malfoy," Harry retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "After all, you've been saying the same bit for five years now."

A bit of red spread across the pale boy's cheeks. "And maybe you could learn to change the truth," he spat, and stalked off with Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.

"What is _wrong_ with him?" Ron said scathingly, rolling his eyes in agitation.

"Do you think he heard us talking about . . . ?" Hermione trailed off as she glanced at his retreating form sharply. 

"I didn't notice him." Ron now began to look worried. "Did you?" He turned to Harry.

Harry shook his head, looking every bit as apprehensive as Ron. 

"Practicing the art of stealth, that one," Hermione said, returning to her food. "There's no use worrying about it now. If he _did_ hear us, he wouldn't know what we were talking about. We didn't mention Snuffles' name _once_."

"But we _did_ talk about going to Snape stores," Harry whispered as he looked around cautiously.

"That's true," she admitted. "But we didn't say specifically when. And we were very ambiguous about it. Maybe Malfoy'll think we're going to break into Snape's cupboard some other time, if ever he thinks we're going to do that at all."

"Look, as a precaution, bring the Invisibility Cloak," Harry said. "And hopefully everything'll be fine."

"If only it were as easy to convince myself," Ron said dryly, eliciting laughs from his companions.

They had spent the rest of the day devising their plan. It was decided that the three of them would go to the Great Hall and start their dinner, and during the middle of the meal, Hermione would go and get the things needed. Ron and Harry were to look out for both Snape and Malfoy. If the one of the two left, Ron was going to go and warn Hermione, while Harry was going to watch the other.  The plan sounded like it had quite a number of loopholes, but they had no choice, because their chances would be considerably less when their vacation ended. 

When evening arrived, the three of them had identical looks of anxiety. 

"We might as well get this over with," Hermione said determinedly, although her face was drawn and pale. She patted the front of her robes to indicate the Invisibility Cloak hidden there.

They made their way to the Great Hall, where only one house table was left. The other three were whisked away, since only a few students stayed behind for the Yuletide season that year. 

Headmaster Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, while the rest of the teachers were seated around him. The students all occupied the other end, obviously intimidated by the presence of the other professors.

"Ah, come one, come all!" Dumbledore beckoned them forward, his eyes glittering behind the familiar crescent spectacles. "A most pleasant way to spend the Christmas, this feast," he said cheerfully, passing a cracker to Hagrid.

"Doin' good, Harry?" Hagrid boomed. He obviously had had a bit too much to drink. "An' yeh two, Ron an' Hermione! Spendin' a lot'f time together, I'd wager?" He winked at them, and both turned very becoming shades of red. 

"We're not—" Ron stammered, but Hagrid interrupted him with a pat on the back more like a whack.

"Do sit down," Dumbledore suggested as he pointed to the empty seats a few feet away from Hagrid. The three of them obliged, trying to ignore their guilt as they took their places. To add to their nervousness, Snape was just a few spaces away from Hagrid on the other side. He fixed all of them with a very sour expression as they sat.

Just then, Malfoy strutted in, the rest of the Slytherin crowd positively simpering after him. He sat beside his head of the house, a most obnoxious smile plastered on his face. It was evidently directed at Harry, who ignored him and continued to pile his plate with roast chicken and baked potatoes.

"Do you think Malfoy knows?" Ron muttered under his breath while he viciously speared a few asparagus heads with his fork.

"More importantly, do you think he's told Snape?" Harry whispered in return. 

Hermione remained silent, poking at her food listlessly. 

The three of them ate quietly, letting the merry chatter of Christmas wash over them as a soothing balm to calm their nerves. Finally, as Hermione was halfway through her tiny dinner, she exchanged glances with Harry, who gave her an imperceptible nod. 

"Excuse me," she said, rising from the table. She stepped out of her place on the bench and strode off towards the doors, trying not to look too suspicious. 

Harry and Ron looked at one another. They continued their meals, relaxing slightly as no remarks came their way regarding where Hermione was. 

But their calm was short-lived as Draco leaned in to whisper something to Professor Snape. Snape's eyes narrowed at what his student had told him. 

"If you'll excuse me," he said irritably as he stood from the table and walked off, his robes billowing behind him ominously. Draco followed him, head held high, saunter aggravatingly overconfident.

"Hermione!" Harry hissed as he got up from the table so suddenly he startled the Hufflepuff across him. Ron followed suit, and they ran to the entrance.

They skidded to a stop as they saw Snape and Draco talking by the hallway. The two Slytherins stopped at the sight of the Gryffindors.

"Well, if it isn't Potter and his sidekick Weasley." Snape's voice was low and smooth. "Leaving so soon?"

Behind him, Draco was smiling so broadly that his eyes were reduced to slits. 

"No sooner than Malfoy left," Ron answered bravely, only to have Snape round on him.

"Five points for talking to a teacher without being asked to," he said softly. "Now. I suggest both of you return to your food, before you are accused of anything that would merit to a deduction of more house points." Without another word, he spun on his heel and walked away, Draco flitting after him like a lady-in-waiting.

"That Malfoy told!" Ron seethed as an ugly blush spread up to his ears. "Hermione—"

"Don't panic. Let's take the way round the Transfigurations classroom; maybe we can beat Snape to it." Harry gestured for Ron to follow, and the two of them sprinted in the other direction, hoping that they would reach Hermione in time.

Hermione prowled around the darkness, feeling foolish for hiding underneath the Invisibility Cloak when no one was watching. 

_Better safe than sorry,_ she reminded herself. 

She held the list of ingredients in one hand and her wand alight in the other as she squinted at the numerous jars stacked on the shelves. They were all unlabeled, which made the search worse. Of course, she'd seen illustrations of the things she needed, but it was a little difficult, the closet being in the dark. Even the light of her wand was unhelpful, as the herbs all looked the same in the gloom.

"Jimsonweed. Sage." Hermione located a few of the potion components she needed. Taking a few pouches from her robes, she placed the herbs into separate containers and placed them back into the folds of her sleeve. 

_Now . . . where is that blasted asphodel? _she thought as she scowled in frustration. The smell of the plants was beginning to make her a little drowsy, and her nose was starting to itch.

_Probably Snape's favorite potion ingredient,_ she snorted mentally as she rummaged the stock.

Finally finding the other items that she needed, in just under a quarter of an hour, she proceeded to the doors, her stomach settling after the many hours of uneasiness. Elation took its place in the pit of her belly. She was going to do the _Aevum_. The knowledge in itself made her quite cheerful, as she believed that there was nothing as fulfilling as trying something new and having it work to her advantage.

She pushed the doors open—

—And headed right into Professor Snape.

"Professor Snape," a voice hissed irritatingly into his ear as he tried to eat his dinner.

"What is it?" he asked rather tersely, almost wanting to pour an On-Contact Invisibility Potion on Draco Malfoy, who had been pestering him all evening.

"I have some interesting information," Draco said with a nearly tangible intake of anticipant breath.

A pause. Obviously waiting for some recognition.

"Well? Snape asked with a jerk of his head. 

"Hermione Granger is planning to break into your private stores tonight, sir," the boy said dramatically. Snape could just about hear the excitement in Draco's trembling voice. 

_What?_ He narrowed his eyes. "What made you say that?" he asked, instead of the severe rebuking he had intended. He snorted internally. Such malarkey should not be tolerated, as far as he was concerned; he knew that Draco had always detested Hermione, but could the youth be any more apparent in his dislike? What a disgrace to the Slytherin house; blatant crab mentality was the complete opposite of what Salazar Slytherin had had in mind—a discreet, removal of power by means of cunning and stratagem.

_Not that I live by Salazar Slytherin's ideals of my own volition,_ Snape thought as he frowned contemptuously. _Being_ within _the House of the Serpent will_ force _you to follow its rules, lest you be swallowed up in the macabre grandeur of it all._

"Sir," Draco prodded, interrupting the silence that Snape had allotted for his time to think. Tiny hint of a whine there. "I overheard her talking to Potter and Weasley about getting _ingredients_, and she said that _she_ was going to get them because if any of her two _friends_ got it, they might get expelled if they were caught.

"So Professor, what are you going to do about it?" he asked, more persistently now. 

He sighed internally. His mind was already shifting from one scenario to another. If he did as Malfoy Junior's bidding, then Draco would surely think that he was at the mercy of the Malfoy family. 

_No more than I already am,_ he thought dourly. 

On the other hand, if he _didn't_ even check, or do anything of the sort, Draco was sure to report the incident to his father, who would be sure to cause a scandal. He could be accused of being secretly in favor of the Gryffindors; the Death Eaters might ridicule him. . . . Or, worse yet, his cover could be discovered. He rubbed his temples intolerantly. It seemed as if his headache had returned.

His eyes roamed to where Harry and Ron were sitting. Indeed, Hermione was missing from their circle. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to make sure.

"I'll go and see," Snape finally decided to say. He stood up, excused himself and headed towards the exit of the Great Hall. 

"Let me come with you, sir!" Draco said enthusiastically, the manic glint in his eyes brightening with the prospects of Gryffindor prey. 

"No, you stay here," he said, but his words were unheeded. 

At the corner of his eye, he could see Harry and Ron stare at him. Both of them rose from their seats and followed.

He stood by the side of the large oaken doors. Draco darted back and forth behind him like an annoying, squirmy shadow. 

Sure enough, Harry and Ron came bursting forth. They immediately skidded to a stop when they saw Snape a few feet away from them, his hands folded across his chest. 

"Well, if it isn't Potter and his faithful sidekick Weasley," he scoffed. "Leaving so soon?"

"No sooner than Malfoy left," Ron spat. Very stupid of him. Snape deducted a few points and sent them back into the Great Hall, although he doubted that the two would actually do as he had said. 

With a sigh and a bitten-off curse, he headed towards his dungeons, fighting the urge to poison Draco for being such a bother.

Despite the fact that she was invisible, it was obvious that she had walked into him. He had taken a step back in surprise, and she had done nearly the same thing, except she had jumped. Behind Professor Snape, Draco peered curiously into the darkness of the room. 

_Damn it,_ she thought, feeling her stomach plunge sharply. A million thoughts ran through her head. A part of mind was crammed with haphazard ideas on saving herself, while the other part was insisting that she tell the truth and perhaps he'll spare her, and another was preoccupied with how she was going to break the news to Harry and Ron. How were they going to help Sirius now?

And a tiny, paranoid part of her brain screamed, _"I'm going to be expelled!"_

Snape's wand was pointed at her forehead. He opened his mouth to recite a spell. Hermione raised her own, already expecting the Stunning Spell or something of the like. Mentally she rehearsed the spell she was going to use to counter the Stupefy. . . .

"_Accio_, Invisibility Cloak!" he said instead, and she felt the fluid material of the cloak lift over her head. She watched, horrified, as it soared into his outstretched arms. 

He stared at her in a mixture of disbelief, anger and disdain. She felt her heart sink with her belly as her mouth went dry. 

The pause seemed to stretch on forever.

"Miss Granger." Snape had finally spoken. His voice was low, barely a whisper, yet it seemed to reverberate in the huge dungeon. 

She fought the urge to cringe and cower. _Remember Gryffindor bravery!_ she thought sharply.

The words strengthened her resolve. She met his eyes steadily, although she was sure that she could feel and he could see her knees shaking. 

"What, pray tell, possessed you to do something like this?" he hissed. Suddenly, he was livid. He stalked towards her; she took a step back. He walked in her direction until they were only about a foot away from one another. He towered over her menacingly. 

Her courage faltered a bit. "We—I—" Hermione stammered. 

Just then, Harry and Ron stumbled into the room, nearly knocking Draco away from the door. 

"Hermione—we tried to come as soon as possible—" Harry rasped as he tried to regain his breath.

"Malfoy told—" Ron wheezed in unison with Harry. 

Hermione stared at them both with a mixture of helplessness and defiance. She didn't know whether to be grateful for their entrance or to be embarrassed and frightened in the same count. 

"All three of you," Snape said, pointing at Draco, Ron and Harry. "Out."

"But—" Draco protested.

"We can't—" Harry exclaimed.

"Hermione—" Ron thundered hotly with the two other boys. 

"All of you, five points from your respective houses," Snape snapped. "_Out_!"

They all shut their mouths and stood there for a moment before ambling out reluctantly. Harry and Ron shot Hermione sympathetic looks, while Malfoy gave her a pointed glare. 

The sound of the door closing was nearly deafening.

"Now," Professor Snape began, the timbre of his words ominous. "Why were you here, what was your purpose and who else is involved? The truth, or I shall be forced to use the _Veritaserum_."

Hermione just gaped at him. _No insults, point deductions, detention or anything?_

A few moments of silence. "I believe I asked you a question." Snape's tone was sarcastic and slightly impatient.

Hermione swallowed edgily. "I was here because we . . . I . . . wanted to make the . . . _Aevum_," she said bracingly. 

"And? . . ." Snape prompted after another moment's quiet. 

"We were going to make a potion to get into . . . a place . . . so that we could help someone," she finished lamely. 

Snape leaned forward so that his face was almost touching hers. Hermione watched him with bated breath. 

"You will tell me _who_, specifically, or I will force it out of you." Quiet threat.

She remained silent.

Snape sighed shortly. "Why do I ask?" he questioned, more of himself than her. "You are helping Potter in making a potion to help someone. . . . Sirius Black, perhaps?"

He ignored her astonished look. "It's apparent, Miss Granger. You and Weasley have had your share of brush-ins with all sorts of evils . . . all for famous Harry Potter," he sneered. "And now, you're doing something _incredibly_ risky, just to help him. Everyone will do anything to earn Potter's favor. Since he has decreed that Black is in dire need of help . . ." He trailed off, challenging her to finish his statement.

"I don't go around trying to get Harry's approval!" Hermione interrupted fiercely.

"Oh really?" His tone suddenly shifted from intimidating to silken. The sign of a reprimand. She didn't heed the warning.

"Harry is my friend, and I hardly think that I have to go around making an idiot of myself just so that I could retain that friendship," she said. The torrent she had been holding back since Rita Skeeter's articles in fourth year came pouring out.

"I don't do Harry favors just because I want him to like me; I do so because he is my_ friend_, and I know that he's a good person," she snapped, an angry flush spreading over her cheeks the bridge of her nose. "I don't simper over him; I don't fawn over him; I don't keep his company just because he's 'popular'!" she nearly hollered as her eyes flashed. 

"_Everyone_ thinks that I use him because of his popularity. Or that _he_ uses me for my ability to get him out of trouble," she said ardently. "But that's not the case. And I would help anyone I consider a friend, no matter who it was!"

Snape inhaled sharply; Hermione immediately felt that she might have gone too far as to yell at him. But she would not apologize.

"You've made your point," he said after another tense pause. "But you still haven't explained why you need the _Aevum_ to save Black. You'd better explain to me. Unless, if you'd rather, I could make you explain to your head of the house or to the headmaster."

"You . . . aren't going to tell Professor McGonagall if I explain?" Hermione ventured with a cross of uncertainty and skepticism.

He looked at her penetratingly. "It depends on what I hear from you."

"Why?" She couldn't help herself from asking. 

"You are not a child, Miss Granger," he said shortly. "I believe that you know the consequences of your actions . . . of course, depending on whether you get caught or not, or on what is told." His eyes gleamed in the dark. " 'Reporting' you might or might not justify the situation, depending on what I tell and to whom I say it."

It took her a moment to realize that her words had been thrown back at her. So . . . he was hinting that he _might_ not tell anyone, or if he were to, he was going to temper it to make it sound as if she was noble in her intentions.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Snape eyed her for a while, then acknowledged her thanks with a curt nod. "The reason for the _Aevum_, please."

Hermione mulled over how she should begin with the story. She cleared her throat. "I suppose that it started with the reports on Sirius Black. Right after we finished with the exams, Harry, Ron, and I read the papers and saw the first article on him. That was on the day scheduled for the Hogsmeade trip. 

"When we were there in the village, we overheard two men talking about Sirius' dossier being found in Moonshine Tavern."

Snape froze at the mention of the tavern, but Hermione didn't notice.

"We decided to go look for it, and we think that we've found it, except that we can't really enter because we're underage."

Snape was beginning to understand her train of thought. It had actually been quite difficult to grasp, since his mind was muddled with the dwindled headache that had been bothering him since the start of the winter break. But as far as he could tell, it was a brilliant plan for a fifteen-year-old. 

"I researched on aging potions and discovered the _Aevum_," Hermione concluded.

"And why do you need a powdered bezoar?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I was going to make the potion temporary. By incorporating the bezoar and using a Crystallizing Charm, I think that perhaps I could make a fragment that I could place on my skin without making myself age permanently," she replied. "I planned to hang it as a necklace," she explained further.

He gazed at her calculatingly. "That was well thought out, Miss Granger," he said slowly.

Hermione couldn't help but smile faintly under the flattery.

Snape sighed and swept to his desk after he had realized that they had been standing there for quite some time. "I _do_ think that your experiment will be successful. Although I don't exactly approve of your methods . . ." He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're dismissed."

She nodded quickly and strode towards the door, almost tripping in her eagerness to leave the dungeons. 

"And next time," he called after her, "Inform me before you take something from my stores again."

"Yes sir," she answered, rather sheepishly. She took her leave and shut the door behind her, leaving him enshrouded in the darkness.

The blackness pressed against him at all sides. Instead of being welcoming, like it usually was, he found that it actually added to his headache.

_She's planning to enter the Moonshine Tavern,_ he thought disbelievingly. _To tell her that that tavern is a place where Death Eaters gather . . . I would incriminate myself. But to let her go. . . ._

Just as he was about to rise and retreat to his chambers, the doors swung open again.

"A word with you, Professor Snape," Dumbledore said mildly as he poked his head past the entrance.

-----

A/N: Draco's being quite irritating, isn't he? :) I have big plans for him. He won't forever be the whiny little brat.

I kind of had difficulty tempering Hermione's personality in this chapter. I wanted to make her brave, but not to the point that she would recklessly answer without a second thought. I wanted to make her courageous, but not invincible.

As for her anger, I also had a bit of a problem trying to shape it so that it doesn't seem too extreme, too cheesy, or whatever else. It just seemed to me that Snape's remarks regarding Harry's "fame" epitomized everything the Slytherins had been saying, and it just pushed Hermione into saying what she believed in and from her own perspective.

And lastly, as for her determination on helping Sirius . . . there's a reason behind that which _doesn't_ have to do with Harry, but I won't say it just yet. :)


	7. Chapter 6

 "Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 6"

By the Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me. I only own Niobe Tatius-Hathaway.

A/N: Much thanks to my beta readers. Misao, thanks for the brilliant idea. And, as usual, to those who gave me C & C, my gratitude. To my very own Snape—I love you! :) Okay . . . I will _not_ go into PDA.

I apologize for the prolonged breach in writing; my parents dragged me all over the country on a spontaneous vacation, making me miss out on a lot of things. Then, upon coming back, I had a ton of work, and so that kept me from working on this again.

Oh yes, I was recently rereading _Merchant of Venice_ by Shakespeare, and I was skimming over Shylock's speech. Suddenly, an absurd image of Snape walking down the hallway in his billowing robes popped into my head, and his gorgeous voice saying (complete with altered lines), "He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million! Laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies. And what is his reason? I am a Snape!" etc. :) New fanfic idea: the Potter family is angry at the Snape family, etc. Other details to be worked out soon enough (if ever worked out at all). _Romeo and Juliet_ somehow haunts me now.

-----

"Hermione!"

She looked up at the sound of her name. Ron was hovering by the entrance to the dungeons. 

"How did it go?"

To his apparent shock, Hermione smiled, although somewhat nervously.

"Professor Snape let me go without taking any points!" she exclaimed. "_And_ he didn't ask for his ingredients back. But then again, maybe he just forgot that I had taken some." She shrugged. "It was quite unusual. . . ." She trailed off. "Come to think of it, I reckon that it's because of his headache."

"What headache?" Ron demanded as they strode down the hallway. From the end of the corridor beside a flight of stairs, Harry gestured for them to hurry up a bit. "He told you that he was sick?"

"Not really," Hermione shrugged. "I just made that assumption, by the way his pupils were dilated and how he kept on squinting at me. He kept on rubbing his temples and the bridge of his nose as well."

"You seem to have observed a lot." Ron's eyebrows seemed to reach his hairline.

She looked at him keenly. "I _always_ try to observe everything," she said with a grin. "What's new?"

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted.

"What happened?" Harry interrupted their conversation as soon as they reached the staircase where he had been keeping watch. 

"Snape allowed her to keep the stuff!" Ron replied, although the question was addressed to Hermione. "And he didn't even put her in detention!"

Harry stared at him. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not!" Ron shook his head vehemently. "Right, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded in response.

"If that were me, Snape would've gotten me expelled for sure," Ron said with a grimace as he began to walk up the stairs. 

"Same here," Harry agreed he fell into step with them. 

"I think I was just fortunate enough to have faced him when he was in no mood to be vindictive," Hermione said with a small smile that clearly said she felt sorry for him. "By the way, what happened to Malfoy?" she asked, changing the topic. "I know I saw him there, because I recall that Professor Snape sent him out with the two of you."

Ron scowled. "At first, he stood there and annoyed us." He rolled his eyes and imitated Draco's swagger and his drawl. " 'That Mudblood Granger's in trouble now, isn't she? Now the two of you will have to be on your own, without the help of that sniveling Muggle-born. I suppose you need her to do your homework, Weasley? I honestly don't know why you depend on her so much; I don't think she's really all that smart. . . .'" Ron was positively seething. 

"Nearly got into a fistfight," Harry said with a grin as he pointed discreetly at Ron, who was beginning to rant by himself. "I told Malfoy that I'd hex him if he continued to bother us. I don't know if that was what drove him off, but he threw a few more closing insults, then 'left us to our own devices,' as he had put it." 

"Lovely," Hermione scoffed. "He still hasn't grown up, has he? He's been acting that way since first year," she said, eliciting a laugh from Harry. 

"I don't know if we've grown that much either." Harry gestured to Ron, who was still talking to himself. "I hope that _I_ don't do that."

Hermione covered her mouth in order to cork the giggles that were fighting to slip past her lips. 

"A word with you, Professor Snape," Dumbledore said mildly as he poked his head past the entrance.

Snape fought the urge to swear aloud, as he was mortally tired and in no mood for a conversation. He reluctantly stood and followed the headmaster, ambling into place behind the older man.

They strode through the labyrinthine halls in a manner that was incredibly reminiscent of how Snape had followed Voldemort through the winding paths of the Forbidden Forest—quiet, stealthy and secretive. He hastily quelled his qualms and reminded himself that he was following _Dumbledore_; the knowledge should have given him at least _some_ degree of comfort. 

Déjà vu stuck him again. It also reminded him of how he had followed Dumbledore right after he had decided to relinquish his ties with the Death Eaters.

Whatever the situation was now, it was, no doubt, less serious than the ones he had in mind. But nonetheless, Dumbledore's unusual silence was unnerving him.

They reached the headmaster's office. Dumbledore said the password ("Sugar Quill"). Immediately, the gargoyle guarding the passageway slid aside. Dumbledore headed up the flight of stairs, while Snape followed him quietly.

Upon entering the circular room, the headmaster lit a fire with a spell and sat down behind his desk. He gestured for Snape to do so as well, in the chair in front of the mahogany table.

"So, I reckon you've discovered Miss Granger's plan." It was a statement, not a question. 

He nodded, wondering if that was what they were going to talk about.

"What do you think of it?"

"It . . . was well planned, but risky," Snape replied. "And very _noble_ and _loyal_." Dripping sarcasm.

Dumbledore sighed. "I was expecting something of the sort to happen when I read the paper," he said as he watched Snape with those penetrating blue eyes. "Mr. Potter is _quite_ attached to Black, Black being the only person like a relative left in his life. I know for a fact that Harry's unhappy living with the Dursleys. . . ." He waved his hand. "But I didn't call you here to talk about Harry's life." He smiled mildly at Snape's obvious dislike of the topic. "Although it can't be helped, because Harry's life has much to do with the situation.

"I wanted to talk to you about Miss Granger," Dumbledore told him. He tapped his fingers on the desk and looked at Snape expectantly. 

"What about her?" Snape asked, perplexed as to what relevance she could present.

"She is actually the one taking the greatest risks in trying to help Harry by helping Sirius," Dumbledore sighed vaguely. "Doing the _Aevum_ in itself is dangerous, as the potion is _very_ delicate. Of course, Severus, you'd know more about that than I would," he said with a smile. 

"She's going to Moonshine Tavern, just to see if the rumor regarding Sirius' dossier is true. And she'll manipulate the situation to meet her ends, whether she is justified in going to the tavern or not."

Snape eyed him, slightly dubious. He was still at a loss in regard to what Hermione had to do with him, and he was wondering how Dumbledore had acquired all the information he possessed. 

_Need I ask?_ he thought, knowing how Dumbledore always _knew_ everything.

"Madam Pince told me about how Hermione had taken books on On-Contact potions and aging potions," Dumbledore said, as if replying to his unspoken question. "I had heard about how Moonshine Tavern was thought to have all the missing files on the Death Eaters. And I know that one can't enter unless over the minority age.

"I am just making my assumptions, Severus. And this is where you come in."

Snape looked at him in surprise. "What—"

"—I'm asking you to do, is to find out as much as you can, and to assist her in her plans." Dumbledore smiled benignly as Snape's mouth went slightly ajar. "At first, I was going to ask you to prevent her from accomplishing these tasks, but I think that she deserves the chance to venture forth into the world. Good training for later life. And who better to aid her with potion making?"

"But—" Snape protested.

"And Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, apparently unwilling to listen to his complaints. "She's going forth in a project that concerns Death Eaters." 

Unstated: _only _you_ can direct her properly in sneaking around them._

"And," he added, "don't tell Miss Granger that _I_ told you to keep an eye on her. Tell her that _you_ picked that option."

"What?" This time, Snape made the word curl into a question before the headmaster could cut him off.

"I think that it would make her rather indignant if she were to find out that I assigned you the task of keeping watch," Dumbledore said. 

Snape exhaled sharply and nodded jerkily, deciding that it would be futile to try to escape the headmaster's request.

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. Now, off with you," he said, as if Snape were still his student. 

He did as he was told and made his way out of the office.

As he strode down the familiar corridors towards the dungeons, he thought of the headmaster's odd requests. He nearly grimaced at the thought of having to aid a student in something that seemed so brilliant it was ludicrous. He wondered how he should approach her about it.

He passed by the classroom where he had talked to her a while ago, and came to the conclusion that she'd need a proper workplace to brew the _Aevum_. Perhaps he could just tell her to make the _Aevum_ in the dungeons, and in the process find out about what she was going to do.

A glimmer of silver caught his eye. It was the Invisibility Cloak draped over a chair, where he had placed it when he had come across her. 

_I could just owl her a note, telling her to claim the cloak. Then I'll just tell her to brew the potion here,_ he thought, his lip curling in distaste. At least he had established a premise for conversation.

Hermione rubbed her eyes wearily as she squinted at the curly writing on the book she had been reading for the past hour or so. Her wristwatch said that it was 11:27 in the evening. She _was_ tired and sleepy, but she felt like sleep was the last thing she should do at the moment. She had been reading and thinking since she had left Ron and Harry in the common room with Fred, George, and Ginny. She didn't feel like sleeping without at least a bit of information acquired from the books she had borrowed, because the evening would have been such a waste if she didn't learn something new.

_Besides, my train of thought's still running,_ she thought as she cushioned her cheek on the heel of her hand.

She sighed. With the acknowledgement of her flowing ideas, they abruptly ceased to make room for her random musings. 

_If I wasn't helping Harry, all I'd be worrying about are my O.W.L.s,_ she told herself mentally. 

_You know that you're compelled to help. You're always griping on and on about how some people (or beings_) _are persecuted because of their helplessness_, another tiny voice retorted at the back of her head._ Helping Sirius isn't _that_ different from establishing S.P.E.W. _

She knew that people had always wondered why she was so passionate about helping others who were incapable of defending themselves. 

_Niobe Tatius,_ she thought resignedly.

She shut the book that she had been reading and stretched out on her bed, trying to loosen the knot of tension at the base of her nape. At the same time, she reached for her journal in the trunk beside her and flipped it open. 

She found the marked page she had been searching for and began to read:

_I did a bit of research on my family tree for a project in History of Magic. I discovered something really interesting. It turns out that somewhere along my father's family line, a relative of mine named Niobe Tatius-Hathaway was accused of witchcraft. It wasn't true, though. But as far as I know, she was still burned at the stake._

_I suppose I'll delve into her life a bit. She lived in Greece, but due to the conflict in the country, she moved to London. (Greener pastures, I presume—the Renaissance was supposed to have been a mix of both beauty and hideousness, putting it in my words. Research more on that later.) _

_She found this British guy and married him; they had a daughter named Rhea. But later on, her husband found her reciting "'incantations" before a fire. He declared it to the church, and she was burned at the stake in the public square. (Whatever happened to "Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do onto me"?) _

_Rhea was said to have possessed the power to See into the future, and although she wasn't burned for it, she was still shunned by society. I find that discrimination very disheartening, to put it mildly. I'm often indignant when someone gets in trouble because of other people's "natural" instincts (crab mentality, etc.). I just don't like it when the world ostracizes someone or something just because of differences. _

_Anyway, people say that Niobe died. Of course, with no magical powers whatsoever, she must have been defenseless. But then, I often ask myself: what if she had just performed a Flame-Freezing Charm, made herself invisible, changed her identity, and continued to live quietly in the Wizarding World? Then, I squelch the thought. I reckon that I'd know if I wasn't a pure Muggle-born; I'm sure that my family would tell me if there was another magical person in the clan. Unless they themselves don't know._

_But isn't it ironic that later on in time, Niobe's descendant turns out to be a_ real _witch?_

That was where the page ended. Hermione flipped to the latter portion of her journal and unfolded another marked page. The date showed that she had written the entry around the Quidditch World Cup, or thereabouts. It said:

_I've always been disgusted by low treatment of people, or even non-human beings. Watching Mr. Crouch fire his house-elf, Winky, had stirred this anger in me; I realized the play of power between all those in existence, and it scared me. It's like what had happened was just an analogy for me to understand the way the universe is fashioned, and a very chilling analogy at that. If Mr. Crouch could treat a house-elf that way, then perhaps he could treat fellow human beings in the same way. And if he could act that way, other people could too. It's unjust, this persecution-of-the-weak rule._

_Prejudice is almost a common thing. My ancestor, Niobe Tatius-Hathaway, was one to be persecuted. House-elves are treated like vermin. Even_ I _am rejected by my peers, because they think I'm a "nerd," or something of the sort. (Well, I used to be alone, until Harry and Ron had kept me company—thank God for people like them.)_

_From now on, I swear that I'll try to defend those that I see as unjustly accused, persecuted, helpless, shunned, and whatever else. And heaven forbid that I forget this promise to myself._

Hermione slammed the leather-bound notebook shut and tucked it back into her trunk. 

_Sirius Black is persecuted_, she told herself sleepily. As if she hadn't known.

With that, she closed her eyes for a while, and drifted off into the light clutches of slumber.

But it wasn't long before she was awakened by something tapping on her windowpane. 

Opening one eye blearily, she squinted at the gray owl making noise on the other side of the glass. She sighed and made her way to the window. As soon as she had pushed it outwards, the owl came swooping in. It landed by the foot of her bed and hooted softly. It stuck out its leg, where a note was tied.

Glad that the owl hadn't disturbed the other occupants of the near-empty girls' dormitory, Hermione hurriedly unraveled the parchment and began to read.

_Miss Granger_, it said in a hand that was a cross between scrawl and script, _you left Potter's cloak. It is currently in my possession. Claim it in the Potions dungeon. If possible, tonight._

Despite the gravity (or irony) of the situation (having left such an object in the possession of the Potions master seemed like a Very Bad Idea), Hermione snorted with laughter. It seemed that even in writing, Snape disliked Harry. It was as if the man was irked just to have something of Potter's in his hands.

It didn't seem like a Very Good Idea to leave it there for the night either, so Hermione decided to do as he had asked, although she was exhausted. Not bothering to keep her writing legible, she scribbled on the edge of the parchment: _be there in a few minutes._ She retied the parchment to the owl's leg and sent it off.

She dragged herself out of bed and threw a robe over her pajamas. 

_I hardly think that Professor Snape would deduct points from me for choosing to wear sleeping clothes,_ she thought sardonically as she stepped into her slippers. She tied the belt and moved towards the common room. 

Snape sat behind the desk motionlessly as he waited for Hermione. The Invisibility Cloak was folded and placed on the chair in front of him. 

He had received Hermione's note a few minutes ago and was waiting for her. Less than patiently, at that. All he wanted to do was to go to sleep—his only way of escaping the pain of his headache, at least for a few hours.

He reckoned that Dumbledore knew of his condition. He exhaled and pressed his forehead to the surface of the table. The headmaster most definitely worked in mysterious ways, Snape told himself, and the hints that Dumbledore was giving him didn't go over his head. He asked Snape to visit Madam Pomfrey on an errand once—Snape didn't know whether it was coincidental or staged. 

But somehow, as much as Dumbledore's omnipresent knowledge unnerved him, the headmaster's lack of comment regarding his headache bothered him too. 

_Indecisive, aren't you?_ he said internally. 

His thoughts were interrupted as Hermione entered the room, looking just about as tired as he felt. 

Snape pointed at the cloak wordlessly. She was glad for the silence; she didn't think that she could handle another bout of confrontations. She walked over to the cloak and hung it over her arm, already prepared to make her exit.

"A question, Miss Granger," Snape said, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around and faced him.

"Where are you planning to brew the _Aevum_? I hardly think the headmaster would stand for it if you brewed it in strange places, as I'm sure you did with the Polyjuice Potion." He allowed himself a small mocking smile at that, and Hermione paled visibly. 

"I was planning to use . . . my room," she said haltingly, not rising to the bait he had set, but not quite managing to disguise how awkward he had managed to make her either.

_I refuse to ask him how he found out,_ she thought. _Not right now, at least._

"I fully intend to preserve the castle. I suggest that you use the Potions classroom; that way, the damage you create would be very minimal, since the dungeons have been protected by several spells to keep them in tact," Snape said coolly. 

Hermione was both flattered and flustered. 

"Besides, I don't think that Professor McGonagall would like it if her student got . . . _damaged_ . . . by a potion made without proper supervision," he added darkly.

Hermione decided that his remark must have been spurred by something in the past, but decided to put that thought aside and settled on feeling irritated at his complete lack of confidence in her.

_Classic, though,_ she mused. _Head of the Slytherin house never bestows his or her trust upon a Gryffindor student._

"Thank you for your concern, Professor Snape," she said, carefully keeping her voice level as to emphasize the sarcasm. "I _will_ use the dungeons . . . tomorrow."

"Good," he answered just as impassively as her. 

She nodded curtly and headed out as quickly as she could, grateful to be out of his presence once and for all . . . at least, for that night. She had had too many scrapes with him already.

_Dear Father,_

_I think that I should tell you this interesting bit of information. Professor Snape's stores were raided today by none other than Hermione Granger. That Mudblood is another sidekick of Potter, and I bet she's doing something under his bidding. I know that that doesn't concern you, but maybe this bit of information will: Professor didn't punish her. At all. I don't know; I still think that Professor Snape favors me, but maybe he isn't that harsh to Mudbloods anymore? Isn't a D.E. supposed to be wholly against that type of riffraff? _

Lucius shook his head and tapped his quill upon his desk impatiently. He was annoyed at three things: firstly, his son's lack of discretion would surely bring about the downfall of the Malfoy line, if Draco continued to divulge information without doing something as simple as casting protective spells on his letters. 

Secondly, his lack of attention on important things was surely a disadvantage. If Snape's stores were indeed raided by that Granger, Draco should have at least tried to find out why, since it seemed to be a blatantly obvious fact that Potter was connected to that Mudblood. 

Finally, if Snape _was_ indeed nice (for lack of a better term) to this Mudblood, something must be amiss. Lucius narrowed his eyes. Something had to be done about that.

He twirled his quill lazily and pulled a spare piece of parchment from his drawer. Within minutes, he had constructed a short letter addressed to Snape. He folded it and debated on whether or not he should send it just yet.

Deciding that it was too late in the evening to summon Snape (untimely letters tended to make people nervous, which was the last thing he had in mind), Lucius placed it on the stack of letters he had on his out-tray.

He placed his quill back into its inkbottle and continued reading Draco's letter, which consisted of nothing more than meager descriptions of his son's vacation and the petty conquests he had accomplished.

-----

A/N: I explained a bit of Hermione's history in this chapter (idea provided by Misao). _That's_ Hermione's reason that doesn't have to do with Harry. I'll delve more into that as the story progresses. (It'll play an important part.)

I also realized that my portrayal of Draco in this fic is an exaggerated version of himself from the books. But to all you Draco fans out there, I promise that he won't be like that all the time. I have special plans for him—that's why he's there. Otherwise, I wouldn't have bothered. :) But I'll pose a question earlier in the fic . . . should I allow him the untimely death I had so ruthlessly planed for him? No, I'm just joking . . . kind of. :)

I got a comment about my last chapter, saying that Snape was too nice. Yes, I agree that he was much nicer than usual, but I had three reasons why I made him milder. 

Firstly, he had a headache; it drained him of all his energy, therefore, he found that he was too tired to be vindictive. All he wanted to do was send Hermione off. He didn't even want to see if what Draco was saying was true, but he had to. 

Secondly, as he said in the chapter itself, he thought that she wasn't a child, and that she knew the consequences of whatever she chose to do. Although that it was his job to discipline students, he wanted to hear her reason first. (Yes, our cruel Potions master _actually_ has a sense of justice.)

Thirdly, upon hearing her reason, he was trapped. To discourage her from entering, he would cause suspicion, because I reckon that Hermione would want a reason as to why she can't go, and he can't tell her about the Death Eaters. And to allow her meant that she was plunging into the fire, and he had told her that she was old enough. In a way, he had allowed her discreetly by telling her that she knew the effects of her deeds. (He could discern the way Hermione's mind worked; he knew that she knew she was taking full responsibility for her actions.)

And now, in this chapter, he has yet another reason: Dumbledore told him to. :) Soon, he'll have even more. This _is_ a romance fic concerning them, right? :)


	8. Chapter 7

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 7"

By the Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: This chapter only has a few significant happenings, but enough to make it useful. 

As much as I'm tempted to make this a graphic sex scene, I think that I won't, considering that the rating I maintain is PG-13. *sigh* I can't write a full one anyway. (Well, I can, but it'll take me forever. And besides, the thought of aphrodisiac!Snape would be enough to make me hyperventilate. :) So if I _do_ have an attack, I won't be able to finish it anyway.) 

Thanks to those who are commenting and to my beta readers. And Rei—Draco will play an important part in the end. Whether he dies or not. *evil smile* Come now, readers, should I allow Draco to die? :)

-----

_"Please . . ."_ _she whispered, pressing helplessly against him, her hands entangling in his hair._

_She lay beneath him again, just as she had before. Her passion-glazed eyes held his, the blatant desire smoldering within those glassy depths. Her lips curved into a languorous smile as she stretched upward into him, her mouth finding his own, capturing it in a heated kiss. He responded with the same fervor, returning the kiss with feral longing, his hands sliding down the curves of her hips to whisper invisible patterns against her skin._

_"Severus . . ." She said his name as if it were honey on her tongue. Almost a caress, almost tangible, almost enough to feel. "Please . . ." Heat spiraled down his spine and shot through his body at the simple plea, kindling the sweet ache that burned at the pit of his stomach._

_Half-formed thoughts formed in his brain, only to vanish as her hands found his and guided them to where she wished to be touched. Her trust in him was intoxicating and exhilarating; the knowledge that she was willing to be subject to his ministrations was heady and so beautiful that it moved him. She clung to him as if he was all that mattered. The complete surrender of her being was elating, setting his senses aflame. . . ._

_She shifted underneath him, and suddenly, he was enfolded in molten warmth. She cried out his name, whimpering it as a litany, pleading. . . . He obliged, succumbing to the light, finding bliss as their bodies melded as one. . . ._

Severus Snape gasped as his throat constricted. With what sentiment, he knew not, but it was so strong that it woke him from his slumber. Perhaps it was from lack of air, but he somehow doubted that as he tried to grasp the fragments of the dream he had before they floated away. He remembered the woman, her voice, her body. . . .

He turned over in bed and buried his head in his pillow. 

_Not again,_ he thought crossly, his presence of mind returning to him. _I know I've had this dream before._

He glanced out the window. The sky was still dark, and his assumption was that it was about one o' clock in the morning. Sunrise would not come until later. 

Snape threw an arm over his head. He _still_ couldn't tell who the girl was.

It looked like he was in for another sleepless night.

"—And so, I'm going to be working on the _Aevum_ later in the Potions classroom."

Ron stared at Hermione dubiously. "This gets weirder every minute."

They sat together by the hearth in the common room, keeping their backs to the fire. Hermione had just told them about her last encounter with Snape before she had gone to sleep. Neither of them seemed willing to believe it.

"He actually offered the dungeons," Ron repeated for the nth time during their conversation that morning.

"_Yes_, yes," Hermione sighed. "But he didn't exactly offer it nicely, Ron. He actually insulted me, and_ then_ told me to use the classroom. Call it a precautionary measure on his part."

"I'm surprised that he didn't keep my cloak," Harry said, running a hand through his jet-black hair in agitation. "That's a very . . . _Snape_ thing to do, keeping something valuable of mine." He paused. "_And_ my father's," he added.

"I think that he was disgusted with it," Hermione put in with a smile, eliciting a laugh from Ron.

"Typical," Ron shrugged. 

"He makes my dad sound so _evil_," Harry frowned. 

"Well, you heard the circumstances," Hermione chided mildly. "Sirius played a prank on him, and your dad saved him. It puts them in a very odd situation, you see? It's natural to think that James was only saving his own hide, since the practical joke was very dangerous, and it would cause a _lot_ of house points, even expulsion on the Marauders' part if ever it was discovered."

"I believe that my dad had good intentions," Harry insisted.

"He probably did," she agreed thoughtfully. "And I think that Professor Snape just has a case of sour grapes."

"Sour grapes?" Ron retorted bemusedly. 

"It's a muggle figure of speech, from Aesop's fables," Harry explained. At Ron's vacant look, he sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Alright then," Ron said, scratching his head. "Anyway . . ." He turned to Hermione. "Defending Snape now, are you?" He arched a coppery eyebrow. "Something's not right. . . ."

"I'm going to be spending _a lot_ of time with him now," Hermione said briskly. "I might as well get used to him. I'm _not_ defending him; I'm evaluating his personality."

"Of course, we'll keep you company—" Harry offered hastily.

"You don't have to," she interrupted. "Look, I worked on the Polyjuice Potion myself; I can do this alone as well." She sighed and lowered her voice as she spoke, noting that Harry and Ron had exchanged another one of their secret glances that even she couldn't interpret. "All you have to do, Ron, is accompany me to Moonshine Tavern." 

"Wait—" Harry started.

"And _no_, you are _not_ coming along." Hermione cut him off as soon as he had gotten the first word out. "People will know you. You _can't_ risk it—not there."

He exhaled in defeat. "You're right," he admitted. 

"Good," Hermione said contentedly.

"Right," Ron piped up. "Now that we've settled on our roles, shall we get breakfast?"

The great hall was just coming to life when they stepped in. The golden rays of sunlight were slowly creeping into the hallways, illuminating the castle in glistening brightness. A few people milled about, either chatting with their friends or eating breakfast.

To their surprise, Snape was seated at the teacher's table. He seemed to be eating a bowl of oatmeal as he read the newspaper.

"Well, _he's_ up early today," Ron muttered. "Why is it that we run into him _everywhere_ we go? It suddenly seems as if the castle's too small."

"I can't understand why you hate him so much," Hermione scoffed. "Harry has a lot more reasons to hate him, and you don't hear him griping."

Harry glanced at them both. "I don't gripe because I choose not to," he told them. "Besides, he hasn't been bothering me lately. . . . In fact, it's Hermione who he seems to have taken a new interest in torturing."

"Don't start with me," Hermione warned seriously, although her eyes glittered with mirth. 

"Maybe he's waiting for her," Ron suggested. "You know, for the potion."

"Ironically enough, I was planning to search for him after we ate breakfast," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "But I left my things in my room. I'll go fetch them later."

They sat down at the Gryffindor table to eat, but soon the mail arrived. Hermione took her issue of the _Daily Prophet_ and held it up as she munched on her cereal. Her eyes grew wide as she read the first article.

" 'Thefts occur in Knockturn Alley, Black suspected'?" she repeated incredulously.

Harry and Ron looked to her in surprise. She spread out the paper on the table, and the three of them hunched over it as they read the article.

"A number of shops were broken into this morning, and several valuable items were stolen, most of them potion items." Ron ran his finger over the page, his eyes darting to and fro as he read the column. "They think that Sirius Black did it, because in one of the shops, a scrap of cloth was hanging by the door, and the Ministry of Magic have identified it as his by means of several spells."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "Sirius wouldn't do this," he muttered.

"He must have been framed," Hermione murmured to herself as she stared into space, obviously deep in thought. "To us, it _must_ be obvious that it's a setup, but to the others who _don't_ know, they'd think that all the 'signs' all point to Sirius."

"No wonder Snape was reading the paper today," Ron piped up. "It had something to do with potions."

Hermione glanced at the Professor. He was no longer reading the newspaper and had continued eating.

Suddenly, an idea came to her. 

"I don't know if this already occurred to you guys," she whispered, drawing Ron and Harry closer, "but I think that Sirius was framed by none other than the Death Eaters."

"Lucius Malfoy and his gang of filth?" Ron hissed in return. "What's in it for them?"

"That's what I'm going to find out," Hermione said. "Now, eat and act normal; we're drawing attention."

Sure enough, several students were looking at them, so they loaded food into their plates and partook of their breakfast.

Snape read the article in silence, the gears of his mind starting to turn as he mulled the information.

_What do they think they're doing_? he thought darkly as he reread the news. _Lucius has lost his touch; he's no longer as discreet as he used to be in his youth._

_Unless he_ plans _to be obvious._

His lips flattened into a thin line. _And I'm not as slippery as I used to be. We're all growing old._

As he was scanning the article for the third time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione strode into the great hall. They all appeared to be surprised to see him there. He watched them from the corner of his eye as he pretended to read and down his gruel. They sat down and began to eat, but soon, the mail arrived. As he had anticipated, they reacted to the headline. 

_So, it_ is _true_. _It's Sirius Black they're concerned about._ Snape frowned contemptuously. He remembered the Shrieking Shack, and how all three of them had attacked him in defense of Black. His cheek twitched.

_Why do I have to be involved in this_? he asked himself balefully. He didn't think that Black would be grateful to him after they had helped anyhow. If only Dumbledore hadn't asked him to assist Hermione. . . .

He scowled. _Blasted girl._

"I'll just grab the ingredients," Hermione said as she took the first step leading to the girls' dormitories. "Then I'll meet you two here. I can't believe you want to accompany me to the dungeons."

"You never know," Harry said seriously. "Malfoy might spring at you in shady corners." His emerald green eyes shone with amusement.

"We'll act as your bodyguards," Ron added, his face as straight as Harry's.

"Right." Hermione rushed up the staircase.

_It's good to see that they can still have a few laughs_, she thought as she reached her bedroom. _Even if the situation isn't exactly pleasant._

She took the spell book, the pouches of potion components, quills, an inkbottle, and her notebook. After stuffing them all into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and ran back down. Harry and Ron were talking to Ginny and the Weasley twins.

"Off to the library again, Hermione?" Ginny asked with a smile.

"Definitely. A ton of books to return." Hermione held up her bag. 

"Really, Hermione, there's more to life than books," Fred said seriously. Behind him, Neville stared suspiciously at a tart the twins had given him.

"Like having fun," George suggested mildly.

"It's useless to argue with you two," Hermione shrugged good-naturedly.

"Right on!" they chorused.

"Come, let's go to the library," Ron said, dragging Harry and Hermione off.

They strode through the corridors quickly, trying their best not to look too secretive. When they had reached the dungeons, Snape just happened to be stepping in as well.

"Professor!" Hermione called out. His eyes rested upon her for a moment, then went to Ron and Harry. His face expressionless, he gestured to the classroom, where a large cauldron was already set, and several glass vials were laid out for samples.

"I'll see you two later at lunch," she told Harry and Ron. "Unless I'm not done by then."

"We'll drop by," Harry assured her.

"Okay." She nodded firmly and stepped past the threshold. 

Snape shut the doors behind her, and Harry and Ron exchanged looks again.

"I assume you brought the things you took from my stores?" Snape drawled as he sat behind his desk and stared at her until she almost lost her nerve.

She nodded wordlessly and emptied her bag. She opened the book to the marked page and prepared to brew the potion, channeling her thoughts so that she could concentrate. 

_Right. I can do this._ She lit the fire and took the vial of dragon's blood. It sizzled with the contact as she poured it into the cauldron. When the thick liquid had pooled on the bottom, she dropped the sage in. As expected, it exploded slightly, causing Hermione to jump back in surprise, even as she knew that something of the sort was going to happen. She breathed in relief when the mixture settled again. 

Feeling self-conscious as Snape watched her, Hermione continued to add the ingredients and stir until the cauldron had filled halfway. Occasionally, Snape would interrupt her to fix what she was doing, but more often than not, he left her alone. When she added the flaxseed, the potion's bubbling had been reduced to a slow simmer.

"Thank goodness," she murmured, sinking into the chair next to her. The potion was not finished, by all means, but she was partly done. Just a few more days, and she would finally be able to add the jimsonweed and the powdered bezoar.

"Very good, Miss Granger," came the silken praise.

Hermione looked up at him tiredly. "Thank you, Professor," she said with a tiny smile.

"You managed to brew an immensely complex potion without turning it into a poison," he said as he swept over to her. He peered at the dark crimson substance, which just so happened to be the color of dried blood.

"It's supposed to look like that?" she questioned hesitantly.

Snape eyed her for a moment. "Yes," he nodded tersely. "Very ominous. Did you know that this potion was banned?"

"I read a bit about it, sir," she said.

"What did your book say?" He was talking to her, but his eyes were trained on the wall, as if he were pondering something.

"It was prohibited during the rise of the Dark Lord because it was used in large doses to kill Aurors," she recited without having to think. 

_Aurors._ She inhaled sharply and glanced at the Potions master in sudden apprehension. He _was_ a Death Eater, after all. . . . She hoped that she didn't call to mind anything too macabre.

_That's doubtful._ She cursed herself mentally for her slip of the tongue.

To cover her mistake, she pretended to leaf through her book until she found some relevant information regarding the _Aevum_ and its uses. "Well, it says here that the victims of the _Aevum_ could still be cured with a counter-potion," she murmured as if reciting to herself, although she meant to speak aloud as a balm of some sort to the memories she might have caused him to remember.

_Unless they're dead already,_ a tiny voice in her head added.

"Half of the Ministry didn't know how to brew that potion," Snape said softly. Hermione glanced up at him uncertainly as she covered the cauldron, wondering if he was addressing her or just simply talking to himself. 

Deciding that it was probably the latter, Hermione occupied herself with taking down notes on the progress of the _Aevum_ and jotting down information from the book that might be of use to her.

Snape watched the young woman as she brewed the potion. She was clearly ill at ease, no doubt because of his presence. But heedless of that, she did her work neatly and efficiently. She obviously knew what she was doing, and her hours of research proved their usefulness when she substituted some ingredients in tempering the potion to her liking without altering the effect. 

"Miss Granger," he interrupted when she was about to add the stewed mandrake. She looked up at him, her hand wavering slightly above the cauldron. "I suggest adding the sprig of mint _before_ that."

"Oh." Hermione nodded, murmuring words like "potency," "effectiveness" and "reversibility."

He observed her as she regained her concentration. Once again, her movements became fluid and precise, while the light behind her eyes deepened as she brewed the potion.

Snape kept an eye on her exacting motions as she stirred the mixture. He found that his eyes strayed to her hands—slender and delicate, pale and seemingly fragile. Yet she worked adeptly with them. He wondered if he had noticed them before because he rather felt that he had; he was just unsure _when_ he had, if ever he had in the first place.

_Odd thoughts to be having about a student_, he told himself somewhat tetchily.

"It's supposed to look like that?" Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts. He turned towards her, and she was eyeing the potion uncertainly as it simmered in the cauldron.

_Dried blood._ "Yes," he replied as déjà vu struck him again. "Very ominous. Did you know that this potion was banned?" he asked absently.

"It was prohibited during the rise of the Dark Lord because it was used in large doses to kill Aurors." He noticed that Hermione recited the bit of information without even having to stop to wrack her brain. This caused her a point the list of people he grudgingly admired.

_That's right._ Several scenes flooded his vision. Vaguely, he could hear her saying, "cured with a counter-potion. . . ."

_Half of the Ministry didn't know how to brew that potion._ He was certain that he had only said it within his mind, but he found that it came out of his lips as well. He saw that the last remark had caused her some discomfiture, and he recalled that she knew that he was a former Death Eater.

_The_ Aevum _was the last thing I had to do with the Death Eaters_, he told himself as he called the scene to mind.

_"Severus," Lucius Malfoy said by way of greeting as he entered Snape's workplace. The man slipped off his cloak and hung it on a stand, his behavior seemingly normal, although Snape knew otherwise._

_"What is it now?" Snape demanded. He had a few books and scrolls spread out before him, and he hastily feigned an interest in something he had come across, so as to mask his vexation at the other man's arrival._

_"Ill-tempered, as always," Lucius chastised smoothly. He strode to Snape's desk and took a seat before it._

_"I don't think that you've come for a chat," Snape replied coldly, almost failing to mask his distaste towards his fellow Death Eater. "What do you want?"_

_Lucius sighed and toyed with the hem of his sleeve idly. "We're running out of ways to kill Aurors. The Imperius Curse still has its novelty and its usefulness, as well as Cruciatus, but we find that they no longer suit our purposes." He brushed an invisible piece of lint from his robe and fixed a steady eye on Snape. "Besides, you know that the Ministry has ways of scanning the minds of the dead Aurors they happen to come across. Even if the Cruciatus manages to distort memories, it only takes effect on the memories_ before _the curse, not_ after _it._

_"What I'm saying is that we need another method that not just kills, but wipes out memories completely."_ _Lucius leaned forward now, and Snape fought the urge to recoil from him. "I know that you know a way, Severus. I am certain you are capable of brewing the_ Aevum."

_"The_ Aevum _isn't particularly dangerous," Snape replied, keeping his voice level as he stoically fended the request._

_"Unless taken in large amounts." Lucius now had that cajoling smoothness infused into his voice, which obviously meant that he was trying to earn a favor. "It's even a kinder death, Severus." Snape resisted the urge to scoff. As if Lucius Malfoy_ ever _had others' best interests at heart. "Their old age causes their memories to dissolve. Come, now. They die a painless death."_

_"I'm not brewing the_ Aevum." _Snape negated firmly. "I find that the Cruciatus works perfectly for me."_ Besides, _he thought_, Imperio always allows them to pretend they're in pain.

_"But I'm not asking you," Lucius said. He had one of his nasty smiles on his face that slightly unnerved Snape. "I'm_ telling _you that you_ should _brew it. Under the Dark Lord's request."_

_"Since when has He made 'requests'?" Snape sneered, by way of whistling in the dark._

_"All the more reason for you to oblige this one," the other replied. He stood up and made his way to the door, pausing to take his cloak._

_"I'll take the finished potion from you five days from now," he said as he fastened the clasps of his overcoat. "By the way, cozy little cottage you have here in Hogsmeade. I expect you'd want to keep it in tact?"_

_Snape watched with growing dejection as Lucius slipped into the night._ _Interesting threat he made there._

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose as a particularly sharp pang of his headache struck. Hermione glanced up from her work as he leaned on the desk for support.

"Are you alright, Professor?" she ventured haltingly. 

"Quite fine, Miss Granger," he snapped, a bit more edgily than he would have intended. 

The silence stretched on, the only noise in the room the scratching of Hermione's quill. Snape sighed as he rubbed his forehead vigorously. 

_"Please . . ."_

He started.

_"Severus . . ."_

Snape glanced at Hermione rather uneasily. She was preoccupied with her notes and thoughts. It obviously wasn't her. . . . 

_A flash of fire._

He stumbled slightly as the force of the vision slammed into him, his knees almost giving way beneath his weight. He gripped the edge of his desk to keep his balance. It seemed as if his dreams were occuring outside of his sleep. He choked as his lungs clenched painfully, and almost went headfirst into his worktable. A few of his papers fluttered to the floor, their quiet fall disrupted by the shattering of an inkbottle.

"Professor Snape!"

Hermione was instantly beside him. She helped him to sit on his chair, and upon making sure that he was secure, she started working on a remedy.

She seemed to know what his problem was. She ran to his stores and took a few items. Snape barely paid attention to what she was doing; all he could see was a flurry of movements as she concocted a potion. It was done in less than half an hour, and she ran to him with a goblet the moment she was able to lower the boil to a simmer. 

From behind glazed eyes, he could see and feel her tip his head back and pour the potion into his mouth. He swallowed it by reflex. Slowly, his eyesight began to clear. First, he made out Hermione's Gryffindor prefect badge against her robes, then her golden brown hair, and finally her worried expression.

"A healing potion—" he rasped. "_Sanatio_. . . Phoenix tears—empty vial?"

Hermione seemed bothered by his slight incoherence, but it appeared as if she understood what he meant.

"No, I didn't finish your stock, Professor," Hermione told him in her most soothing voice. She looked rather awkward, though, at least to what he could discern. 

"I think we should call Madam Pomfrey. . . ." She sprinted to the doors.

"No—" he protested feebly, but she was gone before he was able to complete his sentence.

Just as soon as his vision seemed to have cleared itself, it dimmed, and he felt the tug of sleep beckon to him.

Hermione ran down the hallway as fast as she could, her robes whipping behind her. 

She was already doubtful of Professor Snape's headaches. Headache, rather. It didn't look like it stopped. Unless he was fatally sick (she cringed at the thought), it appeared that his headache was caused by a magical affliction. 

She skidded to a stop upon reaching the staircase leading to the hospital wing. She burst through the door, startling a few younger students and the Mediwitch herself.

"Madam Pomfrey—" Hermione panted as she struggled for breath. "Professor Snape—headache—"

The Mediwitch was ready to go to the Potions master quicker than Hermione had anticipated. They hurried back to the dungeons. Snape was still on his chair, but he was slumped forward and sprawled halfway across his desk. He was asleep.

"Did you give him anything?" Madam Pomfrey asked Hermione as she checked his pulse and prodded him with her wand.

"Only the _Sanatio_," Hermione replied, hovering behind the nurse.

"Good. . . ." the woman muttered distractedly. "At least you gave him both a healing potion and a sedating potion. . . . He'll sleep and recover, hopefully. . . ." She mumbled a few more things, then conjured a stretcher and used her wand to put him on it. 

After talking to Hermione about how the Potions master had come to be at such a state, Madam Pomfrey cast a charm to make the stretcher float, and she headed back towards the hospital wing with the unconscious professor in tow. 

Hermione watched them round a bend with a mixture of concern, discountenance, and quite a bit of curiosity. Perhaps on another day, she'd ask him a few more questions about his condition.

-----

A/N: Essence of life = something like _chi_, I guess. 

I saw a cute Snape button that says: "Why am I like a cauldron? Because Snape lights my fire!" :) Just sharing.

I made Harry, Ron, and Hermione react with surprise to Snape's appearance during breakfast because I pictured him as the type to eat in his dungeons.

I am inspired by Jane Austen. I just reread _Sense and Sensibility_ today (Oh, for the love of Colonel Brandon), and now I'm thinking of some sort of old-fashioned Hogwarts scene. 

I don't know where I got the term "Mediwitch." (Is that canon? I don't think so.) To whomever that came from: my thanks for providing me with a term for Madam Pomfrey.

Comments would be nice. . . . Feed my greedy soul.


	9. Chapter 8

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 8"

By the Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: This chapter has a bit of foreshadowing, I think. Poor, poor Severus. . . . He's about to get tortured. . . . In more ways than one.

By the way, since I'm almost halfway through the fic, I'd like to thank the people who commented during the first half. The comments have really helped, and they've inspired me to actually get this far. (I never do chaptered fics. That's why the other three fics I have under my name are all one-shots and/or songfics.)

To catsrule_dogsdrool, I would definitely do that last one. :) "Professor Snape, _dahrlink_, I think that you're getting a little too . . . _hot_."

And to those who kept on reviewing, chapter-by-chapter, you give me the inspiration to go on. And Meriadoc/Celithrathien, thanks for that fulfilling review. And your thoughts are almost frightening in their accuracy. Watch out for that red herring! :) (I hope you received my e-mail; do write back, if you could spare the time.)

This chapter has a few references to very naughty things. You've been warned. I think it's because I read Anne Rice today. I tried to instill a bit of horror in the end, but I'm not good at those, sadly.

To "Meee!" who told me that Hermione, Harry, and Ron know that Snape's a Death Eater: read chapter 7 a _little_ bit more thoroughly. Specifically the part where Hermione's brewing the _Aevum_ in the dungeons with Snape.

This is still the unedited version, since my beta seems to be taking quite some time. So pardon the mistakes.

-----

Snape awoke with a groan, blinking rapidly as the ceiling above him came into clearer focus.

"It's good to see that you've come to," Madam Pomfrey said briskly as she bustled about the hospital wing.

Snape rubbed his sleep-laden eyes groggily. _The hospital wing?_

He bolted up from the mattress as he regained his bearings, wincing as the blood rushed back to his head. 

Madam Pomfrey thrust a goblet of some pearlescent liquid at him. "Don't tire yourself; you just passed out in the dungeons yesterday. You don't want to faint again." She tut-tutted about professors and their habit of overworking as she fixed a few things in the cupboards.

Snape stared at the Cure-All potion before drinking it slowly, feeling his strength flood back into his limbs. When the goblet was empty, he placed it on his bedside table, leaned back into the pillows and tried to recall what had last happened. He remembered thinking that his dreams came back out of sleep, and afterwards, everything that had taken place was a hazy blur in his memory. He knew that Hermione had given him the _Sanatio_ to relieve him of that awful migraine-like headache he had, and had also gone to fetch Madam Pomfrey the minute the sedative in the potion had set in. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he was glad that he was in the hospital wing. He had expected to be ill at ease there, but it turned out that he was more comfortable than he had been in . . . in a long time. And he knew that he had a most pleasant dream the night before, although he could only remember fragments. . . .

_Good things never last_, he told himself dully.

"I think I'll return to my dungeon now, Poppy," he said as he sat up again. He looked down at the pajamas she had given him and frowned with distaste. "My robes, if you please."

"Now, now. You'll have to wait here," the Mediwitch negated. "Headmaster Dumbledore said he'd talk to you in a bit."

Snape felt the blood drain from his face. Not with fear, but with weariness. He wasn't ready to talk to Dumbledore about his condition. Not yet, at least.

Just as he was thinking of making an excuse, the door swung inward, and the headmaster swept in.

"I see that you're finally up and about, Severus," the old wizard said cheerfully, settling into a chair across his bed. "Would you care for some chocolate pudding? We could have some sent from the lunch table."

"I'm perfectly fine, headmaster," Snape interjected with a sharp intake of breath. When Dumbledore just regarded him benignly from behind those shining spectacles, he sighed resignedly. "Although 'perfectly fine' seems like quite the understatement."

Dumbledore's look of tranquility settled into one of somberness as he leaned forward in his armchair. "Since when have these headaches started?" he asked without preamble.

Snape tried to recall, but no specific date came to mind. "Lately. I've only noticed it during the vacation." 

"_The vacation_?" Madam Pomfrey repeated, looking scandalized. "It's been _more than a week_! You shouldn't have let your condition deteriorate!" she scolded with her arms folded across her chest, glowering at him as if he were a son meant to be admonished.

"Haven't you made potions to take care of it?" Dumbledore questioned, drumming his fingertips on the armrest. 

"I have," Snape admitted slowly. "But to no avail."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Do you feel anything else that's out of the ordinary? Or is something happening to you that hasn't happened before?" 

"No," Snape said shortly, beginning to lose his temper. 

_You're forgetting the dreams_, a treacherous little voice at the back of his head piped up, but he angrily told it to sod off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to tell Dumbledore that he had been having . . . _explicit_ dreams. 

_Not_ all _of them are, though,_ he admitted to himself, remembering the second odd dream he had had about the school burning down. 

"Headaches . . . Incurable . . ." Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Any ideas, Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "It's the first time I've encountered anything of the sort, headmaster. But the _Sanatio_ seemed to work properly, though." 

"Only the _Sanatio_, Severus?" 

"Just the one," the Potions master admitted tersely.

For a moment, Dumbledore's look was closed and pensive, as if he were pondering something. 

"The _Sanatio_ is a powerful potion," he finally remarked after no less than five minutes. "It is hard to brew, and the ingredients are hard to come by." He cleared his throat and glanced out the window. The frozen lake gleamed in the midday sun. Snape found himself wishing that he were underneath the surface, rather than there, being scrutinized by the headmaster. 

"And it also manages to temporarily stop aftereffects and side effects of curses and hexes." Dumbledore still appeared to be deep in thought. 

Snape could see where the conversation was leading. _Is it possible that someone cast a spell of some sort on me?_ he wondered. He chose not to vocalize that particular query.

If Dumbledore had any ideas, he chose not to share them either. "Keep a close watch on your health, Severus," the aging wizard remarked instead. "And tell me if anything comes up."

Snape nodded once. Dumbledore, seemingly satisfied with that, bade Madam Pomfrey farewell and headed back to his office. 

Snape fisted his hands into his sleeves, pulling at them absentmindedly. "My robes now, if you please," he told the Mediwitch.

"Oh," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, "that's right." She pulled them out from inside a closet, all neatly folded and laundered. She put them in his arms and shut the curtains around his bed, leaving him to dress in private, with nothing but his thoughts to bother him.

"The plot thickens."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's right, Ron," she said wryly. 

After missing Harry and Ron by a few minutes when they had headed for the Quidditch field that previous evening, Hermione had retired early and had opted to wait for them when morning came instead. She had stayed in the common room, reading on On-Contact potions until the two boys had come down with the usual male Gryffindor populace at their heels. 

"I can't believe we missed it." Ron shook his head, clearly dismayed. "If only Fred and George hadn't asked us to play Quidditch. Besides, they always manage to plough over most of the younger years . . . except maybe Harry." He frowned. 

"Start from the beginning," Harry implored, choosing to ignore the familiar underlying jealousy in Ron's last statement. "You were in the dungeons . . . ?"

"I was brewing the _Aevum_," Hermione recounted, "and we were talking. Then, all of a sudden, he just . . . sort of blacked out. I can't really describe it. Anyway, he looked like he was in pain, so I did the first thing I could think of."

"You brewed a potion," Ron provided.

"The _Sanatio_. I gave it to him; the sedating component took effect; I ran to the hospital wing and fetched Madam Pomfrey. End of story." 

"Isn't the _Sanatio_ a potion that Snape mentioned in his class once? He compared it to the Panacea, I think," Harry said thoughtfully. "Don't tell me you actually researched on it. He said that it was a far too advanced potion for any of us to attempt."

"Well, it worked on him when Hermione brewed it, didn't it?" Ron instantly went to Hermione's defense, as if Snape had purposely aimed the comment at her. "But seriously, I can't believe that you actually found out _how_ to make one. He said that it was an obscure potion!" 

"Just because it's obscure, it doesn't mean that it doesn't work," Hermione sniffed. "In fact, it's one of the most potent potions. Actually, it's meant to cure magical ailments, while the Panacea's for physical ones."

"So, you're saying you _knew_ that his sickness was magically induced," Harry questioned perplexedly. 

"_Is_ magically induced," Hermione corrected. "I don't think it's over yet. If we were talking about powerful magic, like curses, the _Sanatio_ wouldn't end it. Relieve it, perhaps, but it would be foolish to believe that the _Sanatio_ could put an end to the problem entirely. Besides, the potion only works on side effects and aftereffects." She paused to breathe. "And no, I didn't really know. More like suspected." She suddenly looked rather disturbed.

"Intriguing," Harry said thoughtfully. Hermione had to smile; he sounded a lot like Remus Lupin with that statement.

"When are you revisiting our ailing Professor Snape?" Ron inquired as he leaned back in his chair. 

"I'm supposed to be back to check on the potion later," she answered. "I doubt he'll be there, though. I want to ask him a lot of things, actually. Mostly stuff about his past. And his condition. If the opening comes."

"Good luck," Ron said with mock sincerity. "It'll take you the next ten years or so to extract that information."

"Oh, but you doubt my cunning mind," Hermione answered with a slight smirk. "After all, I've been spending some time with him; maybe he's rubbed off on me."

"If that were literal, I'd be puking in the sink right now," Ron replied.

Snape was grateful to be back in the dungeons. While his stay in the hospital wing had been repose, he had things to think about, questions to ask himself. And he knew, or at least had a hunch, that the answers probably lay within his past.

He retreated to his chambers and stood before his bookshelves, idly running his fingers over spines by habit while he mused. When he found that he had been standing for a quarter of an hour and no burst of understanding came, he walked to his favorite armchair by the hearth and sank heavily into the cushions. His eyes strayed to the fireplace, and his body registered that it was slightly drafty. He normally didn't light his fire, but he decided that that dusk, he'd allow himself the luxury. He ignited the kindling with a quick spell and leaned back, letting the warmth wash over him soothingly. 

_How could I have been so careless?_ he lambasted himself, crossing his arms in agitation. He should've paid attention to his headaches; now that they've worsened, _everyone_ knew about it. If there was something else he hated, other than visiting Madam Pomfrey, was being the subject of discussion while he wasn't listening. Especially if he was being pitied. 

Snape briefly debated on going down to the kitchens for an early supper when the fire in the hearth suddenly blazed. He looked at it in surprise before his mind registered what was happening: there was incoming mail.

A slightly charred piece of parchment popped from the flames and shot into his hands. He scowled. He immediately recognized the handwriting. 

Reminded as to why he didn't light fires anymore, Snape felt even more the fool as he opened the letter. 

_Lucius would've used owl post if he couldn't contact me by fire anyway,_ he consoled himself somewhat half-heartedly as he smoothed the parchment out on the nearby table.

_Severus,_

_The usual crowd's gathering tonight. Same place as the last, 5 PM this time. Do grace us with your presence._

Snape frowned. He was unsure of his condition, and he didn't know whether he could stomach meeting with the Death Eaters that evening. But then, the idea of missing something important to relay to Dumbledore made him reluctant to forego the gathering. 

Sighing resignedly, he tucked the piece of parchment into his pockets, dressed decently and headed to Dumbledore's office.

With a quick word to the headmaster (accompanied by reminders of his health), Snape now found himself outside the gates of Hogwarts, shivering in the biting night air. He clapped his shoulders to keep himself warm and debated briefly whether he should walk or Apparate. 

Deciding that the latter would be more convenient, he summoned his at-the-moment meager will and Apparated to the entrance of the Moonshine Tavern. He did the usual procedure and stepped through the threshold. The pub was bustling, as usual. He shoved against the crowd of people and made his way to the stone passageway. There, he was accosted by Lucius, whom he was expecting to be in the study at the far end of the hall.

"Ah, there you are," Malfoy senior said. He was holding an untouched glass of cabernet sauvignon. He placed it in Snape's hands and steered him to the last room of the corridor. 

Snape looked around suspiciously. Malfoy's behavior was somewhat out of the ordinary; he seemed a _little_ too easygoing, which presumably meant that he was plotting something. Snape had kept his guard up perceptively; if Lucius had noticed, he chose not to mention a thing. 

The room was empty. A few personal items were scattered here and there, though, such as undergarments. Snape narrowed his eyes. 

"Avery's somewhere around here," Lucius said dismissively. "Left his underwear lying all over the place after he snared some muggle woman." His lip curled in a sneer so reminiscent of his son's. 

In the adjoining room, there was a muffled moan, as well as a thump against the wall that made the shelves rattle slightly. 

"I suppose he's keeping himself occupied," Lucius continued airily. "Anyway," he turned towards the Potions master, "how've your headaches been?" His voice was neutral, free of malice, but Snape would swear on his ancestors' graves that the man had some underlying malevolent intention. 

"Fine," he said tersely. He held Lucius' intent stare with one of his own, thanking the gods that he had had some expertise in staring contests. A teacher needed that skill.

The grayish blue eyes flickered with what seemed like an emotion akin to amusement. "Found a potion to cure it, I suppose?"

For a moment, his thoughts strayed to Hermione. Snape didn't notice that Lucius' eyes had flattened with mirth. "Yes," he chose to answer. Technically, he _had_ thought of the _Sanatio_, but didn't pursue the idea, because he hadn't thought that his headaches could be magical. Of course, he _would've_ tried it sooner or later if nothing had worked; it's just that that Granger had beaten him to it. 

"That's good," Lucius replied smoothly. He sat behind his desk and poured himself his own glass of cabernet sauvignon. Snape, forgetting that he held a glass as well, downed it halfway. Heaven knew that he needed something to loosen the tension that had knotted his neck. 

"Do sit down." Lucius gestured to the couches strategically placed around the cozy room. Snape obliged and sat as near to the fireplace as he could. The temperature was just as freezing there as compared to the dungeons, despite the warm glow it seemed to radiate. He exhaled and stared at his drink as he waited for Lucius to talk. He swirled the rich liquor in the glass lazily, distracted by the play of light as it seeped into the burgundy of the wine. Snape raised the glass to his lips and downed the remaining contents, rolling the bittersweet drink on his tongue before letting it ease down his throat. The warmth of the alcohol soothed him somewhat.

"It's been a long time, Severus."

Snape blinked with a start as Malfoy's words shocked him out of his stupor. With that simple remark, he already knew that something was coming.

He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground. "What are you talking about?" he nearly snapped. His voice lashed out in the silence that seemed to descend ominously.

Lucius smiled. The professor felt his stomach drop slightly. 

"I know that you've never had your share of 'fun,'" the other man drawled. He took a long sip of his wine and held it before swallowing. "Even in our youth, you never opted to do as the rest did." His words were punctuated by a few thuds against the wall behind him. A woman's hoarse cries of release filtered past the barrier. Snape felt the urge to grimace and recoil, but held himself steady. 

"Always full of self-control, always full of restraint," Lucius droned on in the background of Snape's slightly queasy thoughts. "Tonight, I won't have that." He smiled again, more unnerving than the last. "And I reckon that the lady in the other room wouldn't either." 

"I refuse to toy with a woman that's been used, Lucius," the Potions master retorted as he again thanked the gods for allowing him a quick tongue. 

"I never knew that bedding virgins was more your style, Severus," Malfoy senior returned. "That can be arranged." 

"Sexual pleasure has never piqued my interest." Snape crossed his arms, daring to hope that Lucius would stop at that.

"Then how about sadism?" Lucius ploughed on. He leaned forward, and the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He needed action; Snape could see it as well, and it made him uneasy. "Pain must have been more your pleasure, then. I recall that you always chose to use the _Cruciatus_." He stood and emptied his glass before tossing it back onto the tray with the rest of the glasses. "I know that you could never do this in Hogwarts, Severus. Do oblige. Join the rest of the existing Death Eaters tonight." His silver-cerulean eyes glittered. 

"Come on," Lucius cajoled. His tone hinted that it would be his final attempt to convince Snape. If the Potions master refused one more time, it would mean exile.

Snape sighed numbly. "Alright, Lucius. What do you want me to do?" 

"I want you to do what you want to do," the man replied. 

_He's manipulating my thoughts._ Snape's lips flattened into a thin line. "You know I don't have anything in mind," he insisted stonily. 

"Then take your pick." Lucius stood before the bookcase. He placed a slender hand on a thick encyclopedia. "It's either you join Avery behind these shelves, or you join Macnair in the basement. He's currently doing what he's good at." 

Snape felt no urge to behead innocent people, but neither did he feel persuaded to further debauch the woman in the other room. 

_At least I won't be killing anyone_, he thought as he stepped closer to the shelves. Malfoy's smile broadened. He pulled the spine of the heavy "book," and the wall slid open to admit them. 

They were in a bedroom. A large, four-poster bed was placed in the center of the room, with thick, velvet sheets pooling around it in a rich shade of magenta. Golden tassels circled the ornate posts, spilling onto the carpet. The sheets were mussed and wrung. Snape had no desire to find out why.

In the corner of the room, Avery lay upon a disheveled woman, his groans sounding over her labored breathing. Snape's sensitive nose registered the odor of sex right away—that musky scent, accompanied by a slight tinge of blood. The lady was chaste before the evening had started. He briefly felt sorry for her; her first experience of sex was with a man who wouldn't hesitate to kill her as soon as she had reached her climax. 

Lucius and Snape watched as Avery drained her of her strength once more. When they sprawled onto the carpet, spent for the meantime, Lucius spoke.

"How many times have you banged her now, Avery?" 

The other man looked up in surprise before a tired smirk split his swollen lips. "I've lost count," he slurred. 

_Inebriated as well_, Snape realized in disgust. 

"Care to join us?" Avery inquired, as if he were doing something as mundane as eating lunch. 

"I don't think I will; Narcissa would be furious," Lucius said, eliciting a snide laugh from Avery. All three of the men in the room knew that he couldn't care less about his wife. "But Severus here might be interested."

Avery raised his eyebrows. "Amazing," he grinned. "It takes you about twenty years, eh, Snape?" he snickered.

_Never in my lifetime_, Snape thought, feeling sick to his stomach. At least his headache wasn't bothering him as of the moment. 

He glanced at the woman. She stared at him glassily, her mouth ajar in exhaustion. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, and her hair was wet. Not damp, but sodden.

Snape didn't see Lucius glance at him with a sort of perverse pleasure. 

He continued to watch the girl, pondering what he should do next, when his eyes fooled him. 

_Honey blond hair spread on the carpet. Hazel eyes staring up at him, yet seeing through him. Lips parted, rosy and nearly bruised. Body shimmering in the candlelight with perspiration. She whimpered his name._

_"Professor Snape . . ."_

Snape blinked. The woman's tresses returned to a raven black, while her eyes returned to dark blue. 

Lucius' lips were in a knowing smile. "Anything bothering you, Severus?"

Snape took a moment to work his tongue. "Nothing—Nothing at all . . ."

"Good," Avery put in. "Now that she's beginning to regain consciousness, I say we work her again. I'll hold her arms; you work your charm. . . ."

Hermione stirred the potion slowly as it bubbled in the cauldron. Just a few more days of a low fire, and the concoction would be ready.

She checked her wristwatch. She had been there for an hour now, and still, Professor Snape was missing.

It wasn't as if she was seeking his presence to correct her mistakes, though. She was perfectly aware of what she was doing. It was just that she needed some company, even if he mostly remained quiet while she worked. And besides that, she had a few questions to ask. She wondered if he knew that his headache was most likely magically afflicted. And she wanted to know if the Death Eaters ever thought of shifting blame before.

Just as she was beginning to think of leaving the dungeons, she saw Professor Snape's figure stride past the doors. 

Snape felt dirty. Tainted, inside and out.

And it didn't help that his headache was starting to return.

He trudged to the dungeons wearily, feeling his strength seep out of his system with every step that he took. As if "pleasuring" that woman wasn't enough, Avery had insisted that they use the _Crucio_ on her before killing her. And Lucius had insisted that Snape do it. 

Snape couldn't save her from her impeding death. All he did was spare her a few moments of rest. He cast the _Imperius_ Curse on her to make it seem as if she was writhing in pain while he feigned the _Crucio_, but he knew that it wouldn't last long. Avery took the liberty of finishing her with the Killing Curse. _Then_ they hauled her over to Macnair, who was more than happy to mutilate her first before burying her. If ever they _did_ bother to give her that small scrap of dignity. 

Talking to the headmaster about it had only worsened his feeling of guilt. Dumbledore had insisted that he had done no harm, but Snape knew otherwise. He had given in to Lucius Malfoy, just as he had years and years before. 

"It's all part of your disguise," Dumbledore had said. What if he no longer wanted to act as a spy?

_Stop complaining_, he reprimanded sharply. _This is the price you pay for associating with the likes of them._

For now, all he could do was wallow in remorse. And take a bath. He needed the blood off of his hands.

"Professor Snape!" 

Hermione walked to the doors. He paused and turned to face her. She barely suppressed a gasp at his haggard appearance. His eyes were shadowed with something that seemed like grief, while his skin was deathly white. He looked as if he had just come from Azkaban.

"Are—are you alright . . . ?" she asked tentatively. He didn't answer. "Professor Snape?" She raised her hand, and he flinched slightly at the movement. 

"I'm quite fine, Miss Granger," he replied tonelessly. His voice still had that sharpness to it, but that night, it was dulled by some overruling emotion that seemed to drive him near insanity. "By the way," his eyes seemed to clear for a while, but his lips formed a sneer, "I must thank you for the _Sanatio_. It relieved my headache quite well. How very . . . _Gryffindor_ of you to help."

Hermione was taken aback. "You fainted, Professor," she reminded him tensely. "What was I supposed to do, let you lie there?"

"Yes, you corrected me where I had made my mistake," he said smoothly. Suddenly, all traces of sarcasm left his expression, replaced by a seriousness she hadn't seen him wear before.

"I didn't deserve your help, Miss Granger," Snape said. He hunched in defeat and fatigue. 

Hermione almost reached out to him again, but a sharp myriad of odors met her nose. She could detect wine there; he was drunk. If not drunk, then quite intoxicated. She smacked herself mentally for not noticing it sooner. Second . . . she rather thought that she could smell something tangy there, something like musk. It took her a moment to register the scent of sex. She had smelled that in Parvati's robes when they were doing their laundry, but it hadn't been as overpowering, or as disconcerting. She stared at the Potions master in shock and astonishment.

She watched wordlessly as he turned his back on her and strode towards his chambers.

Snape lay in the tub, allowing the scalding water to burn his skin. He scrubbed his hair and his hands vigorously, rinsing away the lingering traces of the night. He had soaped and cleansed himself until his skin was raw, and only then was he halfway satisfied. He then pulled the plug and watched the water drain, thinking with some degree of amusement that it would be nice if he could drain away as well. He then toweled himself dry, and upon making sure that his hair was dry as well (there was no sense in allowing himself to catch a head cold; his headache was burden enough), he climbed into bed and felt sleep hit him like a hammer. 

_He was in a dark room. It looked like his own dungeons, but the surroundings were so dim that he could barely make the outline of things._

_There was someone lying in the corner, from what he could discern._

_He made his way to the figure. The body lay face down. Her hair spilled in a tangled mess around her shoulders._

_He turned her over. Minerva McGonagall stared up at him unseeingly, her eyes glazed over with death. Several scars and lesions marred her face._

_He felt a stab of terror. He backed up until he felt the edge of a desk nudge his hip painfully. He glanced at the table and took a step to the side as to avoid it._

_Against his will, his eyes returned to the huddled woman in the corner._

_Minerva McGonagall no longer gazed at him hollowly._

_Hermione Granger did._

-----

A/N: Finally! I can't wait to write the next chapter. It's when everything happens. :) Let's just say that Snape _finally_ sorts out his priorities; they _finally_ find out why Black's accused of being a Death Eater, and I think it's a cliffhanger too. :)

Lucius' line about bedding virgins was somewhat derived from Riley's _Pawn to Queen_. There are some similarities between the meeting in this chapter and her Dark Revel as well. And the conversation between Hermione and Severus later on about the _Sanatio_ was also sort of derived from Auror Borealis' _Blank Slate_. Amazing fics, those two. I've gotten a lot of inspiration from those writers as well.

For some reason, Lucius' cajoling in this chapter made me think of slash. (But this fic has none of that, though.)

Please do send in your comments and criticisms. They help immensely; they're the pride and joy of a writer. :)


	10. Chapter 9

"Quod Me Nutruit, Me Destruit – Chapter 9"

By the Crystalline Temptress

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant writer J.K. Rowling does. So don't sue me.

A/N: It's been quite a while since I last wrote something. I apologize for the length of time; I was preoccupied with a million things to do.

I suppose this is the "rising action." I'm surprised that I've gotten this far already. Anyway, this chapter contains some answers to a few questions posed in the previous chapters. Yes, it is finally revealed! Sirius Black was accused of being a Death Eater because . . .

Much thanks to all the reviews (most especially to Ithacus)! The input's helped immensely.

-----

Hermione was beginning to feel that she was not ready for the tasks that lay before her. She tossed and turned in bed, falling in and out of a fitful slumber. She had gruesome and grotesque dreams of Death Eaters and horrible carnages. She dreamt of force-fed potions and altars and all sorts of twisted scenarios. She dreamt a number of dreams that had the either the deaths of her family, her friends, or her own. In these nightmares, she almost always came across Professor Snape, acting as either the evil that kills her or the savior that rescues her from peril.

_I'm only fifteen_, she told herself one waking moment, wiping her sweat-soaked brow with the back of her hand. _What am I doing?_ she thought dimly as she shifted to one side, seeing the golden moon in all its fullness, a beacon of serenity and peace as opposed to her horror-laden slumber. She sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. They were itchy and heavy from lack of sleep.

She remembered seeing Professor Snape that evening, haggard and inebriated, smelling of sweat and sex and terror.

_I'm too young for these kind of things_, Hermione whispered to herself internally. _Why did I even bother?_

_Stop this nonsense!_ another voice rebuked, sharper than the first that spoke. _You chose to get into this mess. You'll get yourself out_ after _you've done your part. Remmeber Harry, Ron, and Sirius. Remember S.P.E.W.. And most of all, remember Niobe Tatius-Hathaway._

Hermione sniffled and pushed her teenaged feelings of indecision and fear to one side, trying with all her might to conjure up her Gryffindor daring and bravery. 

_I don't have the time to feel this way._

Hermione sniffed again and closed her curtains, doing her best to feel resolute and failing miserably.

"Are you alright?" Ron questioned as Hermione poked her eggs tiredly. She had been silent and listless the entire time they had been at the breakfast table. Ron and Harry were almost finished with their food, while she was still halfway through.

Hermione nodded slowly, blinking as if to clear her sight. "Sorry," she apologized earnestly, flashing Ron a tiny smile. "I just didn't get to sleep last night. I had nightmares."

Ron patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. Why don't you get some sleep after eating? It would do you some good."

"It's alright," she said, more confidently than she really felt. "I'm sure that it'll wear off later. Besides, the _Aevum's_ done today. I'll just add a few things, cast a few charms, and it's all finished."

Harry nodded. "Good," he said. He glanced around surreptitiously, then leaned forward and cushioned his chin on his knuckles. "If you don't mind me asking, what were the dreams about?"

"It would be good to tell us," Ron said. "It's a burden off of your shoulders. Only if you want to, though," he added.

"I dreamed about the Death Eaters," Hermione whispered after a pregnant pause. "I dreamed about potions. I dreamed about the deaths of my family and my friends. It was horrible. I'd wake up, then when I'd fall asleep again, I'd dream a new dream; this new dream would have a different scenario, but the same characters, and the same pain." Hermione's voice broke with exhaustion and fatigue. Harry looked sympathetic as he patted her left arm soothingly, while from underneath the table, Ron reached out and took her right hand in his. He clasped it tightly in his palm, and Hermione immediately felt better.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, smiling at them both.

"No problem," Harry said with a small grin. "That's what we're here for. Right, Ron?"

Ron's grip tightened. He did not verbalize his agreement, but he nodded.

"Anyway," Hermione said, "as I had said earlier, the _Aevum_'s done today. Right now, I'm going to the library to do a bit of last minute reviewing about On-Contact potions. Could you two come with me to the dungeons after lunch?  We could sort out a plan later, once I've given Ron his pendant."

They acceded with nods.

"By the way, did you read the latest article about Snuffles on the _Daily Prophet_?" Harry queried as he finished off his breakfast.

"No." Hermione shook her head. "I was too distraught to look at the paper."

"There was something there about 'Black's notorious school record,' and how he fought with everyone." Harry rolled his eyes. "They most especially highlighted his squabbles with Lucius Malfoy, though."

Hermione made a thoughtful sound. Then she sighed and took her fork in her left hand. Ron released her other so that she could continue with her breakfast. Harry, sensing that Hermione was deep in thought, did not bring up the subject again. They spent the rest of the time in thoughtful silence, Hermione finishing her morning meal and thinking things over while Harry and Ron watched her and thought about things themselves.

Severus Snape awoke from a heavy slumber, wincing as beams of sunlight shone down on his face.

He immediately remembered his dream about McGonagall and Hermione. He felt his stomach heave violently.

He could only recall fragments of the previous night. He could still call to mind what had happened with Malfoy in the Moonshine Tavern. But after that, things were rather hazy and blurred. He could vaguely remember stumbling across Hermione and talking for a while, but he couldn't remember what they had discussed. He remembered getting into the bath and scrubbing his skin raw. He glanced at his arms; they were most definitely red and peeling. He sighed and rubbed his temples, which were throbbing with a dull sort of pain, and proceeded to the bathroom in order to prepare for the day.

Hermione pushed the dungeons door open, Harry and Ron flanking her from behind. She almost expected to see Professor Snape there, an omen of death and darkness. She exhaled in relief when the light threw the room into high relief; it was empty, except for the cauldron simmering atop one of the tables, as it had been for the past few days. She strode over to it and peered at the crimson liquid as it swirled and spiraled in whorls of lurid intricacy. The _Aevum_.

"_That_ is the _Aevum_?" Ron breathed in disgust.

Hermione nodded once. Taking a deep breath, she took two pouches from her bag and simultaneously emptied their contents into the cauldron. There was a soundless explosion that rattled the walls; Hermione covered her ears, anticipating the result. Beside her, Harry grabbed a tabletop for support, while Ron's arms (accidentally or intentionally, she knew not) found their way around her. 

"I was hoping that wouldn't happen," Hermione muttered as she gently pried Ron's arms away from her. "It still did, anyway." She glanced at the pot. There was only a little of the potion left. It was just enough to create two pendants. Quickly, she performed the Crystallizing Charm; the entire substance solidified into a rough crystal the color of dried blood. She broke it apart with the small poker used to fix the flames under their cauldrons. When it separated into two, she spelled two holders onto both pieces and hung them on chains.

"There," she said, handing one to Ron. "That should do it."

"That's it?" he asked apprehensively, holding up the eerie-looking necklace. It radiated power; all three of them could feel the magic undulating in thick waves.

"I suppose so," Hermione said with a deep intake of breath. Slowly, she placed the chain round her neck and shut her eyes, anticipating a fantastic display of earth-shaking magic. Nothing happened.

Ron let out a nervous laugh. Harry joined in, and Hermione also stifled a slightly hysterical giggle.

"After that explosion, I was expecting something overly dramatic myself," Harry confessed with a sheepish grin.

"Who wouldn't?" Hermione shrugged. "Do I look any different? I don't feel anything."

"Actually, you do," Ron admitted. "A little more mature." He slipped his own necklace over his head. Hermione saw the subtle change take place, more in Ron's expression than in physical looks. Ron took the chain off again, tucking it into his pocket for future use, and he returned to his normal self.

"Alright, now that we've finished with the _Aevum_, we'll now be able to get into Moonshine Tavern," Hermione said briskly, feeling her uncertainties fade away with the strength of her resolve. "When night sets in, Ron and I will sneak into Honeydukes using your Invisibility Cloak," she told Harry, who nodded his assent. "We'll proceed to the Moonshine Tavern, and we'll have a bit of a look around. Listen to conversations, look for evidences, find secret passageways. . . ." She quieted for a moment as she thought. "If need be, I'll step out of the cloak in order to converse with the people. Inebriated ones only; they're less likely to remember. I'm confident that we'll be able to dig up some gossip; a tavern's one of the best places to find out about _anything_."

"We could discover some opinions and rumors too; maybe a clue leading to something extra," Ron agreed.

"I just hope you two aren't going on a wild goose chase," Harry said quietly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. "For Snuffles' sake and ours, I hope not," Ron grimaced. 

Hermione braced her hands on her hips resolutely. "You two go on upstairs. I'll clean up here," she said as she disassembled the cauldron setup. "Oh, and Harry, maybe you ought to plan the route and the timeframe with Ron. I'll catch up on the plans later."

"We'll wait for you at 5:00," Harry said. "It's 2:07 right now. Three hours should be enough, unless you want more time?" 

"No, that's fine," Hermione said dismissively. "I'll see you then."

The two boys then left, and Hermione was left to her musings as she tidied up. 

Soon after she was done cleaning, Hermione checked her wristwatch to check the time. It was exactly 2:30. She had just scrubbed the last of the potion off of the cauldron bottom and was just packing it away when a door creaked open from behind the shelves. Professor Snape emerged from the niche, looking just as startled as she was, though his expression was infinitely more vindictive, although weary and worn.

"Miss Granger," he spoke up. 

"Professor Snape," she returned, unwittingly calling to mind their last meeting. She pushed the recollections aside. "I was just winding up."

"I see," he said quietly. "Are you finished with the _Aevum_?"

"Yes sir," she replied. She lifted the chain off of her head and showed him the pendant. Hermione observed that while Snape inspected it closely, he did not touch it.

"Good enough," came the silken praise. "For a Gryffindor." Her first sparks of pride turned into mild resentment. "When do you plan to use this?"

"Tonight," she answered, frank almost against her will.

Snape crossed his arms and sat behind his desk, scrutinizing her unnervingly. "Explain."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Ron and I are going to go to the Moonshine Tavern. We'll find out a few things. That's all."

He was silent for a long while. "Do as you will," he said sharply.

_I plan to,_ she thought, both bristling and intimidated because of his holier-than-thou Slytherin attitude.

Just as she was about to leave, she recalled a question she needed to ask. "Professor Snape?" she ventured.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I just wanted to know. . . ." She faced him again. "Did the Death Eaters _ever_ shift blame before? Like a scapegoat, or a red herring?" 

Snape narrowed his eyes at her ever so slightly. "Why?"

"I was just wondering," Hermione replied, a tad defensively, "about their reasons for accusing Sirius Black."

"No, I don't think they ever did," he said in response, although his tone was speculative. 

"And, uh, sir," Hermione put in, a little more quietly now, "could it be possible that your headache is magically induced?"

There was a long moment of quiet. "I've been thinking about it now," he told her. "Ever since you gave me the _Sanatio_, I've been wondering about it myself." He suddenly sighed and looked much older than he already seemed. Hermione was shaken once more to see such a change in his expression.

"Go," he snapped without preamble. Hermione immediately did so, rushing back to the Gryffindor common room, where she felt she was on familiar and less terrorizing grounds.

"She plans to go to the Moonshine Tavern _tonight_," Snape said irritably as he paced back and forth. Fawkes watched him serenely, head swaying back and forth to follow his movement.

"Then you must accompany her, Severus," Dumbledore said as he scribbled away on a piece of parchment. "Jellybean?" He offered Snape a pack of Muggle jellybeans. "These are perfectly safe; no odd flavors, except maybe for root beer." 

"You don't seem to be disturbed by this, headmaster," Snape snarled, glaring with pure venom that would have made the basilisk's stare seem like the product of mere annoyance.

"I _am_ worried, of course," Dumbledore admonished mildly, taking a blue jellybean and inspecting it thoughtfully. "But then, she has _you_ for a guardian, and that lessens my anxieties immensely." 

Snape clenched his fists. "I _don't_ want to go to the Moonshine Tavern!" he hissed. "After that encounter I had last night, I am in _no mood_ to hurry back into the seventh circle of hell!"

"Dear old Severus," Dumbledore sighed theatrically, cushioning his chin on a knuckle. "Take my word for it; Hermione's visit won't be trouble-free, of that I am certain. But I would _most certainly_ feel less jittery if you were to act as her chaperone." Snape's nostrils flared at the mention of the word "chaperone."

"I _most certainly_—"

"—Will do so? Good; it's settled, then," the headmaster said cheerily, leaning back into his chair and finally popping the blue jellybean into his mouth. "Not bad," he said. "_Do_ have one before you depart."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had prepared themselves mentally before plunging into their plan (which, by this time, had seemed less valiant and more foolhardy). Harry felt as if he were abusing his friendships by asking them (although unintentionally) to help his godfather. Hermione was beginning to regain her qualms. Ron felt that they should have left the matter with the Ministry. Neither of them felt like abandoning their posts, though, and each one kept his or her reasons undisclosed. 

Ron and Hermione were scheduled to go to Hogsmeade at exactly 6:30 in the evening, and their estimated time of return would be at around 8:00, give or take a few minutes. They would proceed through the secret passageway to Honeydukes, taking care to remain unseen, and then they would take a shortcut to Moonshine Tavern. Ron's job would be to listen to the conversations, while Hermione would look around for clues, secret hallways, and relevant data. They agreed to remain in the Invisibility Cloak as long as possible. Harry would then cover their return, armed with all the healing spells and components he could get hold of (_Just in case_, Hermione had said).

"Good luck," Harry called after them as they hid behind the statue of the one-eyed old crone.

"Thanks," Hermione whispered as she disappeared behind the hunchbacked statue, Ron right behind her. 

Ron and Hermione crept along the passageway, their hearts thumping like sledgehammers in their chests, until they reached Honeydukes' cellar. Mercifully, there was no one in sight as they entered the shop itself, except for one woman who was talking to her boyfriend in one corner. Ron and Hermione tiptoed past them underneath the Invisibility Cloak, but the two lovers were so entangled in their snogging that they wouldn't have noticed a stampede of centaurs pass them by. 

Ron and Hermione hurried across Hogsmeade, careful not to tread on anyone as they wove their way along the sea of people. Finally, they reached the tavern, breathless with the effort it took to get their and their own nervousness. 

"You go on ahead." Ron nudged Hermione to the wall.

Hermione glared at him. Facing the wall, she took a deep breath, made sure that her necklace was there, and hesitantly pressed her palm to the wall. It glowed a bright, glittering red before receding to form an arch. Hermione stepped through, and Ron had to repeat the process.

"The _Aevum_ worked," Hermione said, an air of accomplishment coloring her words.

"You're bloody brilliant, Hermione," Ron replied, giving her arm a squeeze. 

Neither of them noticed that the wall opened up behind them to admit nothing, just as it seemed to admit nothing when the two of them stepped in.

The tavern was smoky and dull, and the hubbub assailed their ears. Ron had to strain his ears just to listen to what people were saying, while Hermione had to squint in order to look at the comings and goings and activity around her.

"Listen here," Ron hissed, tugging at Hermione's sleeve and directing her to a few men who sat at one corner of the pub. They fitted themselves into the corner of the room, eavesdropping on the highly informative conversation happening at the table.

"I think it's _ridiculous_, James," one man said, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. "_Why_ would the accusations make a difference?"

"Don't you see it?" the man called "James" said, banging his mug on the wood. "He's a _distraction_. Since everyone's thinking that he's a Death Eater, all of the blame will go to him! Remember the incident in Knockturn Alley? No one will suspect that the _real_ Death Eaters are doing the crimes, since the spotlight's on _him_! Besides, anyone who's important knows that Black and Malfoy were rivals in school, and it's highly impossible that the two of them would be on the same side."

"As if this distraction will last forever," the first of them said. "Before long, the Ministry will clear this up, and the blame will again be on Lucius Malfoy and the rest of his cronies."

"_Shh!_" the second man exclaimed, looking scandalized. "Do you want us to be discovered?"

"Look, let me say my part," his companion said, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's brilliant enough, using Black as a red herring. Yes, I know, anyone who's relevant knows that Black _despised_ Malfoy in their younger days. But do you really think that their petty arguments in school would set them on different sides? There are many facets to one story, whether it be light or dark. Just because Black's on the Dark side it doesn't mean that Malfoy's not!"

Hermione gasped. "So, that's their plan!" she exclaimed quietly. "Since they're making it appear that Sirius is on Voldemort's side, it would make the people wonder if Malfoy's on the Dark Lord's side too! It _is_ more believable that Sirius would be a Death Eater, since Malfoy's wealthy and quite the _philanthropist_, while Sirius's an Azkaban escapee."

"This won't last very long, though, as that guy said," Ron put in. "What's their point?"

"Lucas, don't act like such an antagonist," the first man said. "Besides, when the Ministry gets wind of all this, the Death Eaters will long be on their way to victory. . . ."

"Okay, I think we've gathered enough information," Ron whispered. "Let's go!"

"Wait a second," Hermione insisted, creeping forward.

To their surprise, the wall beside them slid open, and two men stepped through.

"Hermione!" Ron yelped as Hermione stumbled into the passageway as the wall caved in. She crashed into one man's legs, thrown out of the Invisibility Cloak by her fall.

"What do we have here?" the man said, roughly pulling Hermione up by her hair. She grunted in pain as he yanked her up to her full height. "A ripe young lady hiding in corners! You don't look older than eighteen; we could use you. . . ."

"Go to hell!" Hermione barked, whipping her wand out with a flick of her wrist and Stunning the man.

"Get her!" his companion yelled.

Bedlam ensued all throughout the tavern. People rushed to the door, while others clamored to help James and Lucas. Ron, forgetting all about the Invisibility Cloak, just tied it around his neck like a cape, took Hermione's hand, and rushed to the exit. 

"Oh no you don't!" Lucas snarled. He raised his own wand, and spidery cords flew out of the tip. They rapidly spun around Hermione and held her fast. She fell to the ground with a loud thud. A prism of colors flashed before her eyes, searing her with pain as she felt the bonds tighten around her agonizingly.

"Herm—" Ron was unable to finish as James hit him with the Stunning Spell.

"_Finite Incantatem_!"

Hermione felt the ropes around her dissolve into nothingness. The pain receded into a bearable sting. She fumbled for her own wand and rushed to Ron, thinking that he had freed her from the ties. "_Ennervate_!" she cried. Ron blinked as he came to life.

"What—what happened?" Ron stammered, immediately rising to his knees.

"Who saved me?" Hermione demanded hysterically as she helped Ron to his feet.

"Get out of here," a voice rasped into her ear. Hermione whirled around frantically. She saw no one in sight. Deciding not to dwell on it further, she sprinted to the door. The noise of the crowd surrounding them was deafening.

"_Accio_ Invisibility Cloak!" she vaguely heard James command.

She glanced back and nearly stopped in her tracks, surprised to see none other than Severus Snape.

Snape looked around wildly, cursing under his breath as the throng of people swarmed around him, either fighting to get away or trying to join the fray. He was expecting that something of the sort would happen; his stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought of what could happen to Ron and Hermione. Hermione, most of all, with her cunning and agile mind, with her impeccable Gryffindor courage and bravado. He surprised himself with his own train of thought.

"_Accio_ Invisibility Cloak!"

In horror and dread, he felt his cloak soar above his head, landing into the hands of none other than Lucas Nott, fellow Death Eater and Dark supporter.

"Severus Snape," he drawled. "How surprising to see you here. Defending your girlfriend? You are _such_ a pedophile."

"Lucas Nott," Snape returned, allowing his voice to take on a sarcastic curl. "How surprising to see _you_ here. I thought you'd be hiding in the mountains, too cowardly to face the fate you chose."

Lucas' face reddened with anger. "_Crucio_!"

Snape felt the white-hot pain explode through his skull, burning his insides into molten lava. He fell to his knees, writhing in agony. His insides were bursting with the pressure, and the world shivered around him, tilting wildly on its axis. . . .

Hermione did the first thing she could think of. She grabbed a glass from a nearby table and threw it at Lucas, disrupting his concentration. "_Obliviate_!" she screamed. A jet of green light shot from her wand, hitting him squarely in between his eyes. He flew backwards with the intensity of the spell and hit the bar, which sent a shower of shattered snifters at him.

"Professor Snape!" She sprinted to his side. He was already struggling to get back on his feet. Ron ran to his other side and aided him in standing.

"Go!" He shoved the two students towards the exit. "Tell Potter. . . ." Ron looked at him uncertainly before following suit. Hermione stubbornly remained beside him, clutching his arm for both his support and hers.

Snape maneuvered his way to the door, pushing aside anyone who got in his way. They made their way out of the tavern with much difficulty.

"Thank you," Hermione panted, breathing in the crisp evening air as soon as they had escaped the stifling pub.

"You're not safe here," Snape told her darkly. "We'd best head back to Hogwarts; Albus should be expecting us." He paused slightly before taking off his overcoat and handing it to Hermione. "You must be cold. I know how those ropes feel; they leave a numb, freezing sensation."

Hermione realized that he was correct, and that she _was_ indeed shivering, both with the cold and the fright. She accepted his coat gratefully and wrapped it around her, pleased to see that it enveloped her snugly.

They walked back towards Hogwarts together, silhouetted in the light of the full moon.

Neither of them saw Lucius Malfoy blend into the shadows, his platinum-azure eyes narrowed in sardonic amusement.

-----

A/N: I felt that I had to make Hermione act a little frightened and hesitant in this chapter because she _is_ only fifteen in this fic, after all. A normal fifteen-year-old _might_ be brave enough to handle these kinds of problems, but of course, it would be natural for him/her to feel uncertain. In Hermione's case, she had been keeping her resolve firm for the past few chapters, but coming across Professor Snape in all his macabre glory rattled her immensely. In a way, she felt that he (or what had happened to him) was a symbol of the dangers that she was about to face. (But that opinion changed later on in this chapter, if you noticed.)

I don't know if it's apparent, but Ron's feelings for Hermione are more obvious in this chapter. :)

Yay, just one more chapter, and Hermione and Snape are together. . . . :)


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